


Enigma

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Ivory, Blood and Ebony [1]
Category: DragonLance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, First Time, M/M, Mages being too smart for their own good, Mind Games, The Soulforge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: What if Raistlin and Dalamar had met before Legends? A long time before? AU where Dalamar was discovered and kicked out of Silvanesti much earlier. Slash. Raistlin/Dalamar.





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: An answer to the "Zodiac" challenge: LEO AUGUST Passionate, forceful, aggressive, likes to be in the lime light. 1) The "Different Meeting" Challenge: Make your characters meet for the first time in a different way than they do in "canon", but still be who they are.
> 
> This is my third and hopefully final attempt at writing this, I love this fic, but I never seem to get it right lol. So, one last time, almost fifteen years after I started, Enigma.
> 
> Thank you to IsabellaMajere and ShadowValkyrie for beta reading.

It was raining.

It had rained yesterday, and the day before. Raistlin shivered and huddled deeper in his old cloak. It had been Caramon’s, and Kitiara’s prior to that, and any proof it might have offered against the rain was long gone. It wasn’t overly cold at least, even this early in the year.

No doubt Theobald would be disappointed. Raistlin wondered if his school master had sent him in the half-hope Raistlin wouldn’t come back- either dead of damp, or shot through with arrows for the crime of even approaching Qualinesti.

Raistlin had found the arrow buried half a foot from where he slept, this morning. A final warning that no matter what he had to trade, the elves were not interested. So, home again, an entire week wasted, and another still to go. And a telling-off by ‘master’ Theobald waiting for him at the far end.

The road was silent; the only sound the drumming of rain on his cowl, on the dripping leaves of the overhanging trees. Raistlin’s boots scraped over the loose gravel beneath the liquid mud, and the sound startled him. He hadn’t realised how used he was to sound and voices until they were gone. The chirruping of children at Theobald’s school, the clatter and murmur of voices in Solace, and most of all, his own brother’s endless, asinine chatter.

It was strange to be without it. Raistlin had spent the first three days turning to snap something to his twin- only to find the road empty, his half-spoken words hanging in the air, unheard and ridiculous. Caramon was not walking with him in this. Caramon wouldn’t be walking again until Raistlin had finished his errand, at least. The oaf had slipped from a walkway and  sprained his leg in the fall. He hadn’t even been able to stand long enough to see Raistlin off in the end.

Raistlin had been alone for a week. He had never been by himself for longer than a day, before. Kitiara was gone, Flint, Tanis and Tasslehoff had gone off to trade with the plainsmen, and the spring had been so wet and miserable that few traders were going anywhere, waiting in their homes for better weather. For the first three days, the quiet had been unnerving, and Raistlin found himself jumping at the smallest sounds that broke the stillness. Then it had become normal, and Raistlin had almost stopped noticing it. Now it was nearly comforting, peaceful, as though some part of the serenity had settled inside him too.

And if solitude was the only part of the road with him, this would have been a rather pleasant journey. Unfortunately, along with the peace there was the rain, the mud, and half a bushful of twigs in his robes and hair.

The sky grumbled, distant thunder, and Raistlin shivered as the rattle of falling rain rose to a drum roll. He tried to shelter under a tree, but a branch creaked warningly and he thought better of it. His cloak was drenched, his robes were drenched, and he was drenched. His boots sucked at the mud, threatened to pull from his feet. Raistlin looked up reproachfully at the heavy, swollen clouds. At least he couldn’t possibly get any wetter, and any bandits who might be lurking in the Sentinel Peaks knew better than to venture out in this weather.

No bandits, no peddlers, no travelers. It appeared Raistlin was the only fool stupid enough to be on this road, a road that was rapidly becoming nothing more than a river of mud between two banks.

The rain broke briefly after midday, giving Raistlin a few minutes to chew on a mouthful of sodden bread and swollen fruit, and try and check his position on the map. The map was fraying badly now, the ink running and blurring the marks that had been approximations at best. Raistlin sighed and dismissed the notion of trying to cut through the mountains. With this map and his own uncertainty of the region, he’d probably end up halfway to Neraka.

The clouds stirred, the momentary break closed and the day grew dull as twilight. Raistlin shoved the map in his pocket and sighed, shivering as the rain started again. The low rustling of raindrops rose to a clatter as the puddles grew to small ponds. Raistlin stamped through them anyway, gritting his teeth against the water soaking through his old boots. The world ahead blurred as the rain grew heavier, a silver curtain across the world which turned anything further than a few feet away into grey ghosts

Half-blinded, stumbling, with a hand held up to shield his eyes, Raistlin didn’t see the other person on the road until he had nearly walked into him. The figure loomed up ahead suddenly, and Raistlin started. He hadn’t seen anyone else for over a week now, and shuffled aside as the man stopped. He had no dagger, no staff to defend himself; if this was a bandit, his only recourse would be to run and try to take cover in the foothills.

The man didn’t move, watching Raistlin steadily. “If you have come to rob me,” the voice was low and rough, with a strange accent Raistlin couldn’t place, “I can inform you I have precisely nothing of value.”

The man was tall, a good head taller than Raistlin, broad shouldered and with a dagger at his belt. However, his cloak was even more worn than Raistlin’s, and the slenderness of his wrists, the staring jut of the tendons at his throat suggested he might not be as strong as his frame suggested.

After another moment of silently regarding each other, the traveler seemed to decide Raistlin was no threat, and set off again. Raistlin let out a long breath, and fell into step beside him. Not a bandit, then. Nor a peddler, unless he sold goods to mice, for he had no pack or even a haversack. What had driven this man out into the road, in this weather?

As though sensing he was the target of Raistlin’s thoughts, the man glanced up briefly, and Raistlin caught the flash of bright grey eyes beneath the low cowl of his black hood. No doubt the man was wondering the same thing, Raistlin thought wryly, who was this young fool who looked like he’d gone swimming with all his clothes on?

The man’s presence did nothing to break the quiet peace of the road. He walked on in silence, his footfalls blending with Raistlin’s, the rain drumming on their hoods in perfect refrain. Raistlin snatched quick looks at his unexpected companion; his hands were clasped within his sleeves, head down until he might have been the anonymous statue of some forgotten cleric. But sometimes, he pulled his hood down, or adjusted his cloak, and Raistlin caught a glimpse of a lean, tanned hand, fine-boned and long-fingered, a few strands of dark hair, and- was that a flick of black cloth, beneath the cloak?

And now and again, when his companion thought he wasn’t looking, Raistlin saw him examining him right back. Once, their eyes met, both of them caught in the same act of scrutiny. Raistlin felt his cheeks flare with heat, and the shadows under the man’s hood crooked in what might have been a hidden smile.

The road narrowed as the day drew on, the evening drawing the darkness deeper under the clouds. Raistlin glanced up at the foothills on either side. He’d spent the night around here two days ago, and there were caves aplenty.

His fellow traveler paused, and gave Raistlin a low, appraising look. Whatever he was looking for, he must have seen, because he spoke for the first time since they had met. “As we are both travelling the same way, would you join me in finding somewhere to rest for the night?"

Raistlin paused, and considered. Why not? The man had had more than enough opportunities to rob him already, and two pairs of eyes would be better than one when it came to finding shelter. He pointed towards the eastern side of the peaks; he seemed to remember some good-sized caves on this side. The man nodded and led the way through the craggy, muddy wash of foothills leading up to the rough stone of the mountains.

The rain was still coming down heavily, and Raistlin looked up at the hills, worried. After all this rain, the last thing he needed was to be caught in a rockfall or landslide. Then he blinked; just beside a low strand of trees was a large cave. “There,“ he coughed. He hadn’t said a word in over a week, and his voice sounded odd to his own ears.

The man followed his gaze, and nodded, starting up the slope. Raistlin followed him, stumbling up slowly to the dark and most importantly, _dry_ promise of the cave.

Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones with that same idea. They were just approaching the mouth of the cave when something moved in the darkness. The other man recoiled and Raistlin started back as the black bear lumbered out of the shadows, roaring and rearing on its hind legs.

Raistlin’s hand snatched at his spell components. His pitifully sparse spellbook was no match for this, but he drew up a quick burst of sound and sparks and sent it crackling at the bear’s head. It stumbled and nearly fell, bellowing. Raistlin hesitated, uncertain what to do now-

But the man was ready; he threw up one hand before the bear’s face. “ _Shirak!”_

The light blinded the animal, and it decided this was far too much to deal with. It gave a frightened moan, and dashed away down the hillside. Raistlin straightened, bracing himself on a bent sapling as the magic shot prickling, sweet sparks through him. He looked at the traveller with new eyes, struggling to hide his shock.

The man looked at him right back, face hidden, but Raistlin could read the surprise in the stiffness of his body, the way his hands rested under his cloak- on his components, Raistlin realised. “You are magus.” Raistlin kept his voice level, not accusing, nor amazed, just stating the truth.

“Yes.” The man’s voice was level, but there were so many undercurrents to it that Raistlin struggled to snatch them up in time. Irony, curiosity, warmth? “As are you, I believe.”

Raistlin looked right back, searching the darkness of the hood for those unseen eyes. “Yes.” He wondered what the man could read in his voice. He rarely met other mages- Theobald didn’t count, and his sponsor rarely passed through Solace these days- and this unexpected meeting was... surprising, concerning and maybe even- pleasant, just a little.

They said no more, but the look between them lingered. Probing, curious, searching, hungry for a puzzle.

The sky crackled, the rain came down more heavily, great drops beating down on the mountainside. Raistlin broke his eyes away and shivered, the man nodded, and they both ducked into the now-empty and mercifully dry cave.

There was enough wood at the back of the cave to make a fire to deter the bear if it came back; and for warmth and to dry their clothes. Dear Gods, Raistlin had never _been_ this wet-

But when the fire was made, and they were both sitting beside it, watching the smoke fan out of the cave and away into the falling rain- Raistlin found himself curiously reluctant to remove his soaking cloak. The man’s eyes were half-hidden, but sharp and probing as knives and the cloak was the only armour Raistlin had against them. The thought of laying himself open was uncomfortable, as though he would be stripping himself naked.

His companion seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because even though he was easily as wet as Raistlin, he too seemed reluctant to remove his cloak. They must have made a ridiculous pair, staring at each other over the fire, dripping wet and refusing to remove any of their clothing- while at the same time lying in wait to pounce, the moment the other moved and revealed a new fragment of themselves.

Finally, the man moved. He unbuckled his cloak, pulling it away from his shoulders, drawing the hood back, and laying it across the rocks to dry. Then he straightened, and looked Raistlin squarely in the eye, as though daring him to look away, challenging him to say anything.

And it took Raistlin some effort not to react, because even a stray blink would be read for what it was. The man was, in fact, not a man at all. Raistlin had rarely met elves before, they all tended stay within their forests, but there was no mistaking the slanted eyes, the fluted bones of his face, the pointed ears. But that wasn’t the cause of Raistlin’s surprise, or of the fierce look in the elf’s eyes. Under his cloak, the elf’s robes were not the typical white of a follower of Solinari, the only God of Magic the elves would acknowledge.

They were black, black as night. Black as the invisible moon.

Dark elf.

The elf’s face was set like stone, but his thin mouth was pressed faintly, grey eyes a little narrowed, black eyebrows arching over them with the hint of a frown. Impassive to anyone else, but Raistlin could read the faint undercurrent of a threat there too. Every emotion was held to order, showing nothing but what he intended Raistlin to see. Raistlin met his gaze squarely, unflinching and calm. No fear, no uncertainty. He would show the elf he too could control his emotions, and let nothing be seen he didn’t want to be.

The elf jerked his head slightly, and Raistlin nodded. He drew his cloak off in turn, draping it over the stones in relief, his robes sticking unpleasantly to his skin. He tried to ignore the discomfort, and raised his eyes to meet the elf’s. His turn to challenge.

Their eyes locked, and Raistlin could see himself in the elf’s eyes: nineteen, old beyond his years, thin and pale in the firelight as the robes that marked his allegiance. The elf’s face settled; the faint threat faded into a calm wariness. Raistlin wondered what he saw, in the reflection of himself in Raistlin’s fire-splashed blue eyes.

The silence stretched. “Solinari.” the Dark elf’s voice was low, even, but there was a thread of tension through the word as he gestured at Raistlin’s robes.

“I have not been Tested.” Raistlin answered the elf’s unspoken question, a reassurance without words. He would not turn away in fear, not from a Black Robe, a Dark elf. A mage, like himself.

The tension in the air broke, as though it had been cut. The elf lifted his head a little, the shadow of a smile at the corners of his lips. “Nor have I.”

But he would be. One look at him and Raistlin knew that at once. The Dark elf had not hesitated with his magic when the bear came, wore his battered black robes proudly on his thin frame. The ferocity in those silver eyes, the perfect control of that impassive, handsome face- everything about the elf commanded respect. His emotions were as guarded as if he had placed a sheet of steel behind his eyes.

Raistlin picked through his supplies, selected some bread that hadn’t been completely soaked through, a few of yesterday’s mushrooms, and half a sausage that had retained some of its salt. The Dark elf unwrapped a tattered length of cloth from a pocket, revealing hard bread and tough dried meat. Raistlin looked curiously at it; he had seen elven trail food before, when Tanis had come home from his occasional visits to Qualinesti. Dried fruit and berries mostly, and the elven respect for all life forbade them from eating meat.

This elf was unlikely to have come from Qualinesti then, and if he was so comfortable eating human pack rations- or, indeed, sharing a cave with a human- he must have been on the road for some time. Certainly long enough to have made the trek from Silvanesti, if that was where he had come from. The elf ate slowly, but steadily, making each mouthful last. Raistlin looked him over again, carefully. Thin, but not in the way that Raistlin was, with his frail build and ill health. This thinness came from hunger, from too many missed meals and what little there was far too sparse.

He remembered something Tanis had said, long ago. About why he continued to return to Qualinesti. Even though only a Half-elf, Tanis was drawn back, again and again, to the woods of his birthplace. The love of their forests ran deep in elven blood, to the point where death was preferable to exile. Most Dark elves did not last long, killed either by the hands of righteous fools, or by their own.

This one had clearly been exiled for a while, and had borne the struggles of the world this long, at least. Still, this was dangerously close to elven lands for a Dark elf. Raistlin had no doubt that had he attempted enter the wood, as Raistlin had, the arrow would have been more than just a threat.

No amount of scrutiny would answer that question. Raistlin drew a breath, schooled his voice to nonchalance. “What are you doing near Qualinesti?” His voice pierced the silence.

The Dark elf finished his last mouthful of bread, chewing slowly. “I came from further south.” His voice was just as calm. “From Tarsis.” But _there_ , just that last word. A touch of strain. The elf stopped for a moment, he must have caught the slip too. “And I am not coming near the woods. I was cutting through the mountains.”

Raistlin nodded. “And where are you heading?” he continued, the words sliding out easily, not a break or stutter.

“North.” Just one word, but there was no evasion in the elf’s voice, or his face, just north. Most likely the he had no more idea as to where he was going than Raistlin did. All directions held nothing.

“And you, mage?” The spark of curiosity in the Dark elf’s eyes, and Raistlin felt something warm flicker inside him, pleasure at being the focus of such interest. “Where are you bound for?” His voice was bland. Gods, he was good at this, very good.

“Solace,” Raistlin answered. “How long were you in Tarsis?”

There was a flicker of something in the elf’s eyes, there for less than a heartbeat, and gone before Raistlin could identify it, lost behind the slow blink of his dark-lashes. “Two years.” This time his voice didn’t slip. “And you? Where are you travelling from?”

“I live in Solace.” Raistlin said carefully. He saw the elf’s eyes drop to his belt, the scrolls Theobald had sent him to barter with the Qualinesti for spell components.

“You came to trade with the elves?” The faint touch of a smile again. “Who sent you on that fool’s errand?”

Raistlin couldn’t help it, the smile pulled at his mouth. “My master, and yes, he is a fool.”

He caught the elf’s probing look, and for a moment Raistlin thought he caught a reflection of himself, in those grey eyes, a brief flash of how he looked to the elf. “You are quick in your magic,” he said softly, “and your mind is sharp. And you say your master is a fool?”

Raistlin paused for a moment, frowning at the Dark elf. He was letting slip far too much, but didn’t care. He had looked on the elf and seen someone more than worthy of respect, and it hadn’t occurred to Raistlin the elf might look at him and see the same.

Respect.

No one had ever looked at Raistlin like that.

He swallowed and looked away, felt the elf’s keen eyes on him. He pulled himself together quickly. “The master at my school,” he dragged the focus back to that, safer territory.

“And you study the magic there.” The elf smiled. “For how long?”

“Thirteen years.” Raistlin calmed his expression, looked back impassively. “Not long, in your terms. How long have you studied?”

The elf’s face shuttered again, still as Crystalmir lake, frozen in winter. “Not long,” he echoed; an ironic twist to his mouth. “There was little to be had, back there.” Raistlin looked closely, and elf’s smile warped further. “Silvanesti.” He said finally, the word drawn out, tasting each syllable, then spat out as though the taste was too much for him.

“For how long?” Raistlin continued.

For a moment, he thought he’d pressed too far. The Dark elf’s mask cracked, then smoothed over into a thin smile. “Since longer than you have been alive. I am eighty five” He said finally.

“That is not that old," Raistlin tossed back. More than that, he was young, very young for an elf. Tanis was over a hundred, and he was only Half-elven. The Dark elf would have been barely older than Raistlin, if that, in elven terms.

The elf nodded, “And you? You are- twenty?”

“Nineteen.”

The fire spat, breaking the spell for a heartbeat while Raistlin set more wood to burn, and the elf checked his cloak which he would- like Raistlin- be using as a blanket. Raistlin drew in a breath, suddenly aware of how heavy the air had become inside the cave. Intense and dense with their focus, as though in the middle of a fierce chess match. It was exhilarating, and Raistlin suddenly realised he was exhausted. He had never found anyone who challenged him like this.

“This had been a fascinating conversation,” The Dark elf echoed his thoughts. He could hear his smile, although he was turned away. “Would you care to continue it on the road?”

Raistlin nodded, and let himself smile, a real smile. “That would be a very good idea.” He longed to continue, to delve deeper and sate his curiosity, this strange drive to learn, as though the elf were as fascinating as the magic itself.

They were silent for a moment, looking out of the cave into the night-world beyond. The rain was finally dying away, and Raistlin could see snatches of stars, the brief flare of Lunitari as the clouds began to break up. It seemed as though they might have some good weather for a change. A good omen for their meeting, Raistlin smiled.

The Dark elf did not look at him; instead he looked up at a dark break in the clouds. There were no stars there, no moon- at least, none that Raistlin could see, in his white robes. Then he asked a strange question, one Raistlin had not considered. Why should he? It would tell him nothing of the elf, nothing of his past or himself. Yet it was often the first thing anyone would learn of another.

“What's your name, mage?”

“Raistlin Majere.”

“Majere-“ The Dark elf tasted his name, drew out the syllables as though savouring them. “Hmm.” He surveyed Raistlin again, as though measuring the name up to him, seeing how it fitted. Then he spoke. “My name is Dalamar Nightson.”

Nightson? Not a name any elf would bear. But then, as the Dark elf- no, _Dalamar_ \- had no name, he could name himself anything he wanted. Then again, Raistlin knew something of elven languages, from books of herbs and magic, and while the name meant nothing in the Qualinesti or Silvanesti tongues, in Kagonesti, it was said as ‘Argent’. A far more fitting name for a Silvanesti elf. A mockery of his old name, perhaps.

And his first name, Dalamar, told him nothing. A Silvanesti name, no more. All the same, Raistlin found himself mouthing it to himself, feeling the letters of it on his tongue. Da-la-mar. It was warming, pleasant, and he smiled at the thought of tomorrow, of continuing this game of trading secrets, prying and finding and piecing together this riddle the elf posed.

But before that, Raistlin had one more thing to do before sleeping. He pulled out his battered spellbook from his robes, and began to memorise his spells for the following day. Dalamar looked at him for a long moment, then pulled out his own scrolls and joined him in quiet study.


	2. Fascination

 

 

Raistlin awoke freezing. The wind was cutting, stiff and chill. He sat up and wrapped himself in his cloak, shivering. His head ached a little, his breath caught in his throat and he coughed. A cold, wonderful. Then, after the last week, he should be grateful it wasn’t anything worse. Outside, the wind offered one blessing: it was driving away the last of the clouds. Raistlin kicked up the embers of the fire and piled on fresh kindling.

His companion hadn’t moved, curled up away from him. So still and unmoving that Raistlin wondered, with a stab of alarm, if the elf had frozen to death during the night. Then he stirred, sat up stiffly, gave a slight smile at the renewed fire and shuffled closer, rubbing his delicate, long-fingered hands together to warm them.

He didn’t look at Raistlin, keeping his eyes on the fire as he dug through his pouches for breakfast. He wasn’t quite awake, and didn’t want to let anything slip. Raistlin smiled.

But in the end, Raistlin didn’t need to read his face. To his credit, the elf’s expression did not waver when he opened his remaining supplies to reveal nothing but a few scraps of bread. Calm and accepting. Maybe he was expecting it, or maybe he had gotten used to food just not being there when he was hungry.

Raistlin said nothing, but dug through his pouches, and dropped three of the last mushrooms on the Dark elf’s lap. Dalamar blinked, and looked at Raistlin coolly, demanding what would be the price of this kindness.

“It has been raining for weeks.” Raistlin bit into another mushroom. “We will look for them this evening, and find more than we can carry.”

“You know herblore well.” The Dark elf picked up the mushroom, examined it carefully, stem and shafts and cap. “I do not recognise the mushrooms here, and didn't dare to try them.”

“I know enough,” Raistlin agreed. “You break them here-“ Raistlin demonstrated, “And if it's brown, it's a good one. Black-“ Raistlin gave a cold smile. “Pray you did not swallow yet.”

Dalamar smiled back, amused. He broke off a scrap of the mushroom, and studied the nut-brown interior before taking a bite.

They ate quietly. Then, as the first rays of the sun touched the mountains, they rose and walked back to the road. They walked in silence for a moment, and Raistlin noted how the Dark elf glanced at the mushrooms blooming under the trees, marking out the same kind they had eaten this morning. His gaze wandering from there, to the blooming buds on the trees, the flowers dripping on the verge of the road.

“Plants you did not have in Silvanesti, or Tarsis?” Raistlin tested.

Dalamar’s lip curled. “Tarsis had no plants.” Shortly, his eyes distant, then the expression was gone, and his face shuttered. “But you know what grows here, what can kill and-“ a knowing flash in his grey eyes, “what can heal?”

Raistlin felt his heart stutter, shaken at being read so well and thrilled at this challenge. He inclined his head in recognition of the elf’s skill and received a small smile as a reward. He was at a disadvantage, Dalamar now knew what Raistlin did in Solace, and Raistlin had no idea what the elf had done in Tarsis, or Silvanesti. The fascination drew him in, eager and hungry for more.

“You followed Solinari once,” Raistlin continued, “in Silvanesti.” He must have, to be allowed any magic at all.

“I wore his robes,” Dalamar corrected, and this time, there was a flicker of pride in his smile. “But he had no rule over my heart.”

“You followed Nuitari, even then. Under all their noses,” Raistlin continued. “And none of them knew.” He watched the pride in the elf’s eyes grow, irrepressible and fierce. The Dark elf was proud of his allegiance, did not simply pay lip-service to the Gods of Magic.

“I swore myself to him,” Dalamar looked at him, his voice dark, challenging. It sent a shiver down Raistlin’s spine, but not in fear. In excitement, in fascination. “For the magic, and for the power.” He looked at Raistlin closely. “As did you.” he breathed.

“You can see that?” Raistlin half turned away, his heart beating faster beneath his robes.

“Who still believes in the Gods? Who still swears themselves to the three moons, these days?”

Who indeed? Yet they both had. And of all the people in the world, they had met each other.

“But you- you knew exactly what I was speaking of. You knew very well,” The elf continued. “Who do you follow, Raistlin Majere?” Hearing his name, between the Dark elf’s teeth, sent a renewed tremor through Raistlin. “All your robes tell me is that your master follows Solinari. What of you? Who casts their hand over your heart?”

“All.” Dalamar’s step faltered for a moment at the blunt answer, watching Raistlin closely. Raistlin crossed his arms. His turn to challenge.

“All?”

“I follow all, and the magic above everything.” Raistlin lifted his head proudly, stared back at the elf, uncomfortably aware of how absurd he must look- nineteen and swearing his undying loyalty to the magic!

But Dalamar did not laugh, only nodded slowly, his smile turning strangely warm. “As it should be. For the magic.”

And those words settled their own warmth in Raistlin’s chest. “Everything.” he agreed, “for the magic. What else would be worth the risks?”

“Or the rewards.” The flash of teeth in the Dark elf’s smile.

Raistlin felt a wild flash of strange, raw joy at the sight. Some strange part of him, a lost part, quiet and cold and half-abandoned, whispered _like me_. He pushed it away impatiently, turned his mind back to the mystery the elf posed. He had sworn himself to the magic, yes, as Raistlin had. Why though? Did he love the magic, as Raistlin did? Was he nothing without it, as Raistlin was? Or was it the only thing he had left after his exile, and he clung to it like a drowning man to a rope?

And why had he chosen Nuitari? Raistlin honoured the Gods of Magic for what they were, guardians of his Art. But none drew his heart the way Dalamar described. What was it that drew his to his God; that had called him to turn his back on Solinari, on his entire people?

It seemed that with every scrap Raistlin uncovered, unimaginably more mysteries opened themselves to him. Too fascinating to leave alone. Dalamar turned, as if he had heard Raistlin's thoughts, but said nothing, giving only a grey eyed not-smile which had nothing to do with joy, but all to do with challenge.

 _Come and find out_ , it seemed to taunt.

“You wear your sponsor’s robes,” Dalamar said after a few more moments. “What white robe gives you his support?”

“A mage named Antimodes.” Raistlin said with a shrug, he doubted the elf would have heard-

But there was a flash of recognition in Dalamar’s eyes. “I’ve heard of him,” he said softly. “I met him once, I think. Few humans are admitted to Silvanesti. I believe it was him, although I was not allowed to come near.”

“You were forbidden to approach humans?” Raistlin pounced on the slip.

“I was forbidden to approach any magic.” Dalamar expression flickered, a brief sneer. “Nothing that was not a cantrip, at least.”

“Why not?” Raistlin pressed carefully, “I thought elves welcomed magic users among them?”

The tip of a canine pressed into Dalamar’s thin lip. “Not among their servants.”

It took Raistlin a moment to remember. The Silvanesti had- Houses. Different estates, Tanis had known little, and the books he had read on the subject were vague. But would they really have forbidden someone like Dalamar- fiercely intelligent, brilliant and utterly driven for the magic- from his studies? “House Servitor.” Raistlin pulled the memory free.

Dalamar looked at him, allowing the faintest hint of fascination to show through. “You know a lot about elves, Raistlin Majere. Where did you learn so much about us?”

Raistlin smiled back, his turn to have the upper hand. “I have an acquaintance well versed in the ways of elves.”

“Just an acquaintance?” Dalamar could feel a chink there, a weak spot in Raistlin’s defences, felt for it, probed. “But you do not live alone.”

It was stated, not a question. Raistlin felt a sudden chill, as though the elf could somehow see straight through him to his twin- someone he did _not_ want involved in their game. The very idea was nauseating. Whatever Dalamar saw in his face, he continued. “You check beside you, sometimes, as though you expect someone to be there.”

Raistlin blinked, pulled up sharply. He- hadn’t even realised he did it. He fixed his eyes on the road ahead, determined to stop this very instant. Dalamar matched his quickened pace easily, watching him, waiting. “My brother.” Raistlin gritted out finally.

“Your family, an elven acquaintance, and a mage school,” Dalamar summed up. “Is your town a large one?”

Raistlin shook his head, very glad for the change of subject. "No, not really." Then, at the elf's politely incredulous look, he added wryly, "I expect the Conclave set the school there in order to keep its master as far away from them as possible."

To Raistlin's surprise, Dalamar laughed, a soft, oddly lilting sound. "And do you agree with that opinion?"

Raistlin scowled at the now distant rain clouds, hoping they would soon bring down their burden on Theobald's empty head. "If I didn't then, I do now."

Again, Dalamar laughed.

 

* * *

 

 

Getting moving had helped against the chill, but Raistlin’s head started pounding shortly after the sun had cleared the mountains. His breathing came heavy, his lungs stuttered and he coughed, sneezed. Dalamar slowed his pace as Raistlin started to struggle, watching him curiously. Finally, his breath short and a stitch starting in his side, he stumbled to the side of the road and doubled over, panting and wheezing through his tight throat.

Dalamar stopped, and walked back slowly. Raistlin didn’t meet his eyes, furiously ashamed despite himself and not wanting the Dark elf to see it. “Is something the matter?”

Raistlin shook his head, gritting his teeth. Dalamar sat back on his haunches, facing him. Raistlin didn’t look up, feeling the elf’s eyes on him, those too-sharp grey eyes. Tracing over his sickened, exhausted body, his thin shoulders, the bones sharp under the skin of his face and hands.

Then he shifted, sitting down beside Raistlin. He was still for a long moment, until Raistlin looked up, and met his eyes.

Any expression on his face was gone, but his eyes- there was an emotion there. Not pity, or mockery, or disgust. Not even kindness, but an understanding. The Dark elf was thin himself, and might have known worse, not long ago. Raistlin looked away, feeling something settle in his stomach, the easing of a tight knot he hadn’t been aware of.

“You are ill,” Dalamar said softly.

“Inevitable, in this weather,” Raistlin said bitterly. He dug in his pouches and found a scrap of willow bark, slipped it in his mouth and chewed. It wouldn’t do much for the cold, but it might help with the headache, and the stiffness working its way into his neck and shoulders.

“And you are prone to sickness?”

“You can see that is an understatement,” Raistlin snapped. He felt the elf’s eyes on him again, and this time lifted his head to meet them, look him over in turn. Perhaps Dalamar had known that weakness once, but not regularly, not the endless, despicable frailty Raistlin struggled with every day. Dalamar was thin now, but his broad frame suggested he had been strong once, and would be again once he’d had a few decent meals.

Seeing himself, in the elf’s eyes, he couldn’t help but compare them. He knew he fell short. Frail beside the elf’s strength; narrow body and a wasted, fragile build. Face too sharp, eyes too knowing. Dalamar’s face was lean and narrow, fine boned and sharp featured. His straight black hair framed his face, drew out the silver lines in his grey eyes. Raistlin blinked, and looked away abruptly, pushing himself to his feet. Yes, the elf was very attractive, but it was hardly worth dwelling on.

No doubt Dalamar had seen much more in his face than he had intended, thoughts he had been too preoccupied to guard. Raistlin heard him rise and follow, falling into step easily beside him. They walked on quietly until midday, when they stopped again, this time to eat.

Raistlin was the one to break the silence this time, as he dug through his spell pouch, finding to his disgust that the leather had been soaked through by the rain, and everything inside ruined. "I have to find some more components for my spells, these have spoilt." He paused. "Will you come with me?"

“I have little left of anything,” Dalamar agreed. “And these at least seem plentiful.” He picked up one of the mushrooms from that morning, broke it in half to check the colour, and ate it.

They were plentiful, as were the components Raistlin needed. A few scraps of fur, some herbs clinging to the bank of a pond, the petals of a drooping dog-rose and he should have been finished in a matter of minutes. But they both kept breaking off the search and glancing back, trying to catch the other unawares, their eyes drawn back to each other in fascination. It was almost maddening, to wish to know and yet in the same breath to _not_ wish to know, and prolong the chase that little longer.

“What is it?” Dalamar said suddenly, straightening.

Raistlin let his mouth twist in a thin smile. “You are one to talk; you have been watching me just as often.”

"Then answer for both of us, why?"

"You know the answer."

"So I do, but neither of us has said it."

Doubt hit like a thunderstorm, without warning, and Raistlin was almost crippled with the terror that he had been wrong. What if he had misunderstood Dalamar; and he was the only one so curious? Some freakish fascination with the Dark elf that was shared not at all? The sheer strength of the emotion eclipsed everything, and Raistlin hesitated, emotion showing through for a split second before he quashed the fear ruthlessly.

A split second, but not one which was missed, Raistlin was certain of that.

"You are fascinating." He was proud of the calmness in his voice, not letting a quaver of fear show through.

"So I am. No need to worry, you fascinate me equally. I have never met one so taken by the magic as you are, save myself -"

"And I have never met one who could hide his mind so well, save in a mirror." Raistlin finished, crushing his relief before it could manifest as anything but a slight emotion on the edge of his mind. But an emotion he knew had been seen, all the same.

But the feeling of respite in the air couldn’t be hidden. The tension between them broken, as though the whole world had let out a sigh of relief, Dalamar smiled, and it was stunningly bright, sharp and brilliant, a smile that made his face even more striking- and made Raistlin's heart jump. "Well, this _is_ an interesting game we're playing. I hope you're as worthy as I hope to be."

They walked back to the road, and Raistlin felt lighter, despite the new weight in his bags and pouches. He looked openly at Dalamar, not bothering to hide his attention, and the elf glanced back with equal ease. “You are nineteen,” Dalamar continued, interlacing his fingers. “That is young, for a human, but I’d wager you have more than a few spells in your spellbook. When did you start learning the magic?”

Raistlin shrugged “Young. I was six when I began this path, thirteen when I pledged myself. The magic came to me three years ago.” Laid out like that it seemed, pathetic, small and meaningless, but Dalamar’s eyes were keen with interest, and the fear released its grip on his heart. “You are young yourself, and you told me you were forbidden the magic,” he nodded at the elf’s scrolls, gave a sly smile, “How did you begin your studies?”

He watched Dalamar as the Dark elf considered his words: the way he held his head, the way he inclined his head and smiled- another true smile- as he spoke, the language of his body just as clear as his own words. It drew Raistlin in, fascinated, and set a vivid warmth somewhere in his chest. Despite the elf’s guarded expression, there was something bright in his face, brilliant and lovely. He loved the magic just as fiercely as Raistlin did.

“There are no schools of magic in Silvanesti,” He said at last “Only apprenticeships, and I was forbidden them. I was fed… scraps, crumbs from the table.” His fists clenched, his lips curled in old, beaten rage. “They hoped that would satisfy me. As you can see, that failed magnificently.” He indicated his robes and yes, that pride again, still hidden, but Raistlin could see it. “I discovered other places to find the magic, hidden places.” His voice was distant for a moment, lost in his own recollection. The smile returned, thinner. “I was eighty-three when I pledged myself to Nuitari, but he had given his gifts to me long before that.”

Raistlin frowned for a moment, yes, the dates matched. “Is this why they exiled you? Because you swore yourself to Nuitari?”

Dalamar’s face shuttered completely. Damn, Raistlin had pushed too far. Dalamar’s expression was blank, impassive, apparently unmoved but for the sudden change. Raistlin looked at him and wondered again, what did it feel like? This exile? To be cut off from such a part of yourself forever? The only way Raistlin could imagine it was to try and picture how he would feel if his own magic was torn away from him. It would not be worth surviving. He looked at Dalamar with new respect, and changed the subject. Some things were too painful to discuss.

“And after that, you came to Tarsis?”

No answer again. Dalamar did not speak, did not look at him, but Raistlin saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. More raw memories. Raistlin sighed, and allowed the conversation to lapse into silence. After the warmth with which the elf had spoken of the magic, the sudden break almost hurt. He had seen something under Dalamar’s cold reserve, his quiet determination. There was something vivid there, bright and alive that drew Raistlin’s eyes and made him yearn to see more.

And it continued. Even as Raistlin had to stop and rest, and forage for food. He felt Dalamar’s eyes on him, not angry, not accusing, but simply watching. Letting his hands and eyes and body speak their own language, one Raistlin was desperate to decipher.

So desperate in fact, that despite the damp- all the firewood they had found was too wet to burn- the discomfort of his sick body and the cold, Raistlin could not tear his eyes away from Dalamar, determined to catch any clue as to the elf’s feelings.

Finally, after they had eaten and Dalamar curled up in the hollow of a ditch to sleep, Raistlin stretched stiffly and lay down. He wrapped himself up in his cloak and tried to capture a little warmth in his shaking, freezing body, closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else.

And his mind came back, again and again, to Dalamar. The elf’s breathing was soft in the quiet night. Somehow, Raistlin thought, the more he learnt about Dalamar, the more he was drawn to the Dark elf. He had a talent, as Raistlin did, of creating more questions than he answered, and these ever more tantalizing than the last. He'd answer anything Raistlin asked, but still left him thirsting to know more.

Raistlin caught that last thought. What was he doing? He snarled internally; he sounded like some lovesick poet. When had his interest with the Dark elf turned into an obsession? When had Dalamar become the only thing to occupy his thoughts, almost eclipsing the magic?

Somehow their game had become even more complicated.


	3. Obsession

 

The morning dawned warmer, and Raistlin felt less dizzy and ill than on the previous day. He sat up stiffly, and rubbed his head, chasing away the remains of a pounding headache. He was tired and irritable after having fallen asleep just past midnight. Dalamar looked little better, beating damp leaves out of his black hair.

“Still alive?” His voice was wry, but let slip a slight concern too.

Concern? Raistlin snarled at it. Did the elf think so little of him that he thought him feeble enough to die in a spring night?

But then, why would he care? Did his interest in Raistlin stretch to his wellbeing, or did he just fear Raistlin would die before he understood him-

Stop that. Raistlin told himself. You’re behaving like an idiot. “I’m fine,” He almost spat.

Dalamar looked at him for a long moment, then gave a strange non-smile, and turned away. Was there sorrow there? Regret?

_Stop that_.

Raistlin said nothing, packed his few things, and turned away. He didn’t speak as they walked back to the road, only answered Dalamar’s inquiries with short, one word replies, keeping a slower pace than the Dark elf, letting himself lag further back, his head down, offering no clue to his thoughts.

Inside, he seethed.

He had thought his emotions so controlled. He had been _so proud_ of the little show he’d put on for the Dark elf. But inside, he’d lost control completely. How could he have gone from fascination in a harmless game, to letting a stranger he barely knew, had known for two days, devour his every thought? How could he have slipped into utter obsession so quickly? And without even noticing until it was too late?

And yet- some part of him  _reveled_ in it. In that loss of control, in surrendering himself so completely to an emotion, as he had only ever surrendered himself to the magic. No matter how he scorned himself for his idiocy, or Dalamar for inviting it- the emotion coiled inside him, hungry and eager for more, and he could not kill it.

Dalamar had deliberately slowed his pace to walk beside Raistlin, and was watching him. Had been watching him, all day. Didn’t the Dark elf _realise_ how foolish he was, to devote himself to this folly? Didn’t he feel the absurdity of this obsession with a complete stranger? But either he didn’t, or he did and refused to care, continuing to let his eyes rest on Raistlin. His expression barely changed, calm and impassive, but Raistlin caught flashes- _damn him,_ despite himself, of curiosity, puzzlement- even a brief flash of amused pleasure, gone as quickly as it had come.

_Stop it_. Stop it right now. But he couldn’t help it, eyes reading the slightest hint of relief in Dalamar’s gaze. Why? What had he expected from Raistlin that he had feared? What could he possibly have to fear from Raistlin? Bitterly. Why did the Dark elf walk so slowly, try and match pace with Raistlin? Why didn’t he turn away, leave Raistlin to his pathetic weakness of mind and body?

He had honed his mind, turned it into a blade, and now it drove into him, hooked and dragged him down. He had looked within himself for so long that now it drew him in, drowned him, into this madness, this… obsession.

His breathing was coming harsher, his throat still raw from his cold, and Raistlin finally stopped, covering his mouth and muffling his coughs. He didn’t bother warning Dalamar, but slumped down on the verge and waiting for the weakness to pass, half-hoping the elf would walk on.

And more than half hoping he would not.

Dalamar caught himself and turned back. He sat down beside Raistlin and smiled, slowly and deeply amused. “Did you think you could drop out of the game so easily? I heard you stop.”

“Then why didn’t you walk on?” Raistlin’s voice was rough, he coughed and wiped his mouth angrily.

Dalamar’s mouth crooked, the slightest hint of mockery that made Raistlin’s blood boil with impotent anger. “You know why. Try not to appear less intelligent than you are, Raistlin.” He leant forwards, sitting down, he was only a few inches taller than Raistlin, but seemed to loom over him. Raistlin’s mind caught on the myriad horror tales of Dark elves, of Black Robes-

He shoved them away, drew his mind together with a massive effort. Sealing away his self-doubts in a fortress of seamless will, he met Dalamar’s eyes without blinking. Hid his emotions, his fears the Dark elf seemed to be able to read without the slightest effort.

Maybe this was what people saw when they met him. Impassive, cold, cunning, able to read them like a book. Raistlin had never been on the receiving end before, and for a moment he _hated_ the Dark elf for getting the upper hand in their game. He hated the elf, he hated this game, and part of him gloated in and savoured both.

And some of this must have shown, because Dalamar’s smile broadened, grew darker and hungrier- and Raistlin felt his heart beat faster in response-

Then he changed the subject completely.

“You are tired again?”

“Of course.” Raistlin’s voice cracked out like a whip, as sarcastic and angry as though he had been speaking to his brother. Unlike his brother, Dalamar picked up on every tone. “Why else would I be sitting here if I were not weak and tired?”

Dalamar’s dark grin slowly slipped away, eyes softened, smile gentle. “I do not think of you as weak.”

“Weak and pathetic,” Raistlin snarled. “Why do you stay with me? What do you want?”

Dalamar let his first words slide, “Why, to understand you, of course. Why else are we doing this, but for knowledge? Unless, of course, you wish to stop? _”_

It was said so casually, so easily. As though this were a game of skittles, or bowls, and it would mean nothing to him if they stopped. But Raistlin could see the little tells at the corner of his mouth, the edge of his eyes. He wanted to continue the game, very, very much. As much as Raistlin did. _And he knew it_. He could see how much Raistlin reveled in this challenge, would not have offered to stop unless he knew perfectly well the answer would be no.

Raistlin did the only thing he could have done to save face: he got up and continued walking. Dalamar let him get a few steps away, then rose and followed. He wasn't exactly smirking, but Raistlin could feel it in his eyes anyway. He had been _predictable_. Dalamar had known him for two days and had already seen him for who he was, at his heart. Someone who could never refuse a mystery.

How could he read him so well? How could he see so clearly what Raistlin hadn't been sure of himself?

And maybe- a moment's generosity to his bruised pride- maybe the reason Dalamar understood him so well was because he was the same. He had seen enough of the Dark elf to know he would not let Raistlin get away so easily.

Again, the flash of warmth in a corner of himself left cold and forgotten. _Like me._ The strange, alien sensation of looking at another and seeing fragments of himself.

They stopped to eat, and Raistlin salvaged a little more of his pride by finding a small clump of chicory, and enough mushrooms and dandelions for both of them. Dalamar discovered a scrubby nest and they split the eggs between them. Raistlin wrapped his in a handkerchief to cook this evening, but Dalamar ate his raw, boring holes in the shells with his dagger and draining them. Raistlin turned away to hide his grimace, furiously hoping he would never know what it felt like to be _that_ hungry.

"When did you discover you had a talent for the magic?" Raistlin put in suddenly, watching Dalamar carefully. The Dark elf had caught him off guard once, now it was his turn.

Dalamar was taken aback, and didn't bother to hide the warm pleasure in his face, although it was cut by a challenging curl to his lips. "I'm so glad you've decide to join the game again; it was hardly fair. I had no need to guard my thoughts and you gave information away so easily."

A prick to his pride, but Raistlin lifted his head, met Dalamar's eyes confidently. "I promise you'll find it much harder next time."

"Good." His voice was low, almost a purr. It set something trembling somewhere in Raistlin's stomach. "And to answer you- I was a child. Barely- oh, seven or so, in human terms when I was discovered to have mage-talent. My superiors were not pleased." The cold curl to his lips again, but this time, Raistlin was sure, turned inwards. "They had no idea what to do with me. They never did."

For a moment Raistlin thought of Theobald's bewilderment when he looked at Raistlin, barely hidden by the schoolmaster's forced scorn and dislike. He thought of Antimodes, fluctuating helplessly from sympathy to disgust to confusion. He always stood apart from them, from the world, all sharp edges and serration to everyone who met him.

But not here. Here, every pointed edge was met, every barb was calmed. He met Dalamar's eyes and knew- fast as lightning- he felt the same. _They_ fit. Neat as meshed saw-blades, the smooth edges of daggers pressed together. Dalamar was the one to look away, this time.

"Could they not have changed your rank?" Raistlin pulled the conversation back to more comfortable waters. "They have a house for mages, I believe?"

"House Mystic," Dalamar agreed, and sneered. "No, nothing so sensible or reasonable, not in Silvanesti. You cannot change caste. You are born in one, and you die in one. Otherwise-" He waved a hand at himself in example.

"And that's it?" Raistlin couldn't hide his incredulity. It sounded like something from the days of Istar. Castes and slavery and mad priests.

Dalamar's lips drew back from his teeth. It wasn't a smile. "And that's it," he echoed.

The elven love of homeland must be strong. Raistlin wouldn't have stayed in that place for a heartbeat. "You are my age, in human terms. You are so young, and you can already cast your own spells, and very well too." The praise drew a brief flush to the elf's pale face. Raistlin grinned. Point marked. "They could see how talented you were, and they were willing to waste that?"

Dalamar was trying not to smile, and he was _failing_. Raistlin watched with raw, satisfied delight as he finally gave up, ducking his head to let his hood hide what he could not. "Apparently they were. And- thank you." That last was spoken so softly Raistlin barely heard it. It seemed to have been said by someone else entirely. Soft, warm, a little uncertain, as though waiting for something harsh to follow it.

Raistlin said nothing, and Dalamar eventually lifted his head, met his eyes with a warm, happy glow in his own. The same glow as yesterday, when he had spoken of the magic, and Nuitari. He looked a lot younger, suddenly, and Raistlin could believe that they weren't really that far apart in age.

He couldn't help it, reached out and rested a hand on the elf's arm, felt the warmth of his body, the worn fabric of his robes. "Absurd." He lay that final judgment down. Let it stand forever, the Silvanesti are a sorry assortment of bastards.

Dalamar nodded, his smile touched with the edge of the old ferocity, satisfaction. "And what about you? What did your people say when you began to study the magic?"

Raistlin shrugged. After what Dalamar had described, he'd never complain again. "Very little, no one much cared." He let his own smile touch his lips, sardonic. "I imagine they were rather pleased to be rid of me."

"Even your family? What did they think?"

"My sister was the one to recognise my talent, the one who made sure I was taught. And my brother-" Raistlin lifted his head, smiled at the sky. "It's debatable if he thinks at all."

Their eyes met, they shared a smile. Both of them alone in their art, in their faith. No longer quite so alone. _Like me_ , that no-longer-so-cold part of Raistlin whispered.

 

* * *

 

They stopped a good while after nightfall. Solinari was full and cast more than enough light to see by. Dalamar could have gone on further, no doubt, but Raistlin couldn't. They stopped in a grove of oaks to set up camp. The ground under the trees was dry, and they found enough wood for a small fire. Raistlin dug up a few roots and mushrooms to cook in the cinders with his eggs, and for a little while they sat and ate in silence, watching the flames.

Then Dalamar got up and sat right beside Raistlin, so close Raistlin almost started at the soft brush of black robes, the heat of him. Those grey eyes splashed gold in the firelight looking at him, "Tell me, why do you get tired so quickly? Are you naturally frail, or is it something else?"

"We've had this conversation before." Raistlin snapped, short-tempered from weariness. Dalamar's eyes shuttered for a moment and Raistlin felt an odd pang of guilt for being so brusque.

When the Dark elf didn't answer, Raistlin settled that as the end of the conversation, then jerked back in shock as Dalamar reached out one hand and took hold of his arm. The long fingers closed around his thin wrist, cold from the night air- yet hot enough to brand. He ran his free hand up Raistlin's arm, pushing back the sleeve of his white robes. Raistlin shivered as the light touch raised the hairs on his body, a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. The Dark elf's face was close to his, the firelight making his eyes glint silver and playing on his long hair and sharp features. His hand stroked down, tracing the veins inside his arm, leaving a trail of cold fire where his fingers had touched the sensitive skin.

"Very thin." Dalamar murmured, "You are so very thin. A scholar then? Did you ignore the body in favour of the mind, or were you never strong; leaving the magic as much a refuge as a gift?" Dalamar's knowing smile was almost gentle and told Raistlin that the Dark elf already knew the answer.

The hand holding Raistlin’s wrist loosened, the fingers tracing slow circles on the tender skin, his thumb sliding up to stroke over his palm.

The contact was strange, alien, and Raistlin felt both hot and cold, his skin tingling invitingly and a strange fire starting in his belly. His breath refused to come easily, hovering in his throat, never reaching his lungs. "A refuge, a gift, a home, a strength. Choose one; you know them as well as me." He said softly, looking down at the hand holding his, barely realising what he was saying.

Dalamar's fingers slid back up his arm to his shoulder, tilted his chin up so their eyes met. For one crazy moment, Raistlin was sure the elf was going to kiss him, a thought that evoked a mass of conflicting emotions within him.

"You love the magic, as do I." Dalamar murmured.

Raistlin narrowed his eyes slightly at the Dark elf's choice of words. He couldn't seem to slow his breathing. "Does one love the air one breathes? Magic is my life, as it is yours. Without it, we are nothing." He managed to keep his voice steady, and smiled in triumph at Dalamar's surprise. It was the Dark elf's turn to be taken aback at how well Raistlin had read him. They were on equal footing again.

"No." Dalamar's voice broke into his thoughts, a soft hiss that sent shivers up his spine, "Magic is my life, not yours. Without the magic, I would not live." He shook his head, smile sad, sardonic. "To you, magic is your reason for living. You are a bird; frail, weak and helpless. The magic makes the feathers that will let you soar."

Raistlin shivered as the Dark elf's words slid down his backbone like ice, as his burning fingers brushed down, traced out the bones in his arm. Fire and ice. Hot and cold. His head was spinning, he couldn't catch his breath. He couldn't look away from those fire-splashed silver eyes. Dalamar wasn't hiding anything from him now, and Raistlin knew every thought was clear on his own face.

"Believe me," Dalamar whispered, leant in until they were face to face- sharing breath, "you will, and I will not be the one to drag you down, you needn't fear that." Raistlin could feel the heat of his body, the same heat that filled the words he spoke, the same heat that burned into his arm from Dalamar's clenched hands. That was filling him, blazing like molten glass, until Raistlin half wondered if he'd crack open from it.

"I do not fear you," Raistlin breathed, his stomach knotting, afraid the elf would pull away and terrified that he wouldn't.

"Then stop acting as if you do." Dalamar's eyes didn't break from Raistlin's, hypnotising. Serpent's eyes. "This frightens you, doesn't it? That was why you tried to stop. You are afraid if you let yourself feel this- this fascination, it'll devour you. Let me tell you now, Raistlin Majere, you have nothing to fear from me." He stared penetratingly into his eyes, his beautiful face so close. Mouth just open. Raistlin turned his head up without thinking, and for a moment-

Dalamar stopped. His eyes were wide for a moment, shock printing across his face. Then he released Raistlin and stood, haloed in the firelight.

And walked away, leaving Raistlin furious, shaken and achingly aroused.

Raistlin shivered again, dragging his cloak closer around him. His skin burnt, as much from desire as from humiliation. This had gone too far; to be so far out of his depth that Dalamar found it so easy to play on his emotions, to touch him like... like...

Dalamar had been about to kiss him. Raistlin was absolutely certain about that. And Raistlin would have let him. Would have- he had no idea. He felt both abashed and confused at his reaction, his sudden desire at Dalamar's touch, shocked at his body for betraying him.

But Dalamar had stopped. Had looked surprised himself, as though this new turn was not one he had planned - or even seen coming. Raistlin blinked through the firelight. Dalamar had huddled back on the other side of the flames, rolled up in his cloak with his back to Raistlin.

But he wasn't asleep. Raistlin could read the tension in his shoulders and back. He wasn't asleep, and wouldn't sleep for a long time.

Well. Raistlin sighed, and threw his cloak around himself, curled up facing the flames. That made two of them.


	4. Attraction

If Raistlin slept that night, he didn't remember it. When the sun rose the next day, he greeted it with open eyes, sitting hunched over the ashes of the fire, staring at them and trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions.

He... had no idea how he felt. He had thought he understood himself. He had thought the ground under his feet was solid, reliable. Then last night had happened, and now everything was quicksand under him. He felt so utterly confused.

Raistlin closed his aching, itching eyes, and tried to make sense of the tangled knot of raw emotion inside him. For the fourth time that night, and he had no more hope of succeeding than before.

He traced the emotion back, trying to pinpoint where it had begun. Upon meeting Dalamar, of that he was quite sure. What had started as simple curiosity had opened wider and wider into a gaping canyon at his feet and Raistlin wasn't sure _what_ it was now. More than fascination. More than obsession. He stared down inside himself and wondered.

What was it, drawing him to the Dark elf? The very first person who understood. Who Raistlin could speak to, show the quiet secrets in his heart and trust they would not be laughed at or condemned. Dalamar immediately knew what Raistlin meant because he felt it himself. _Like me_. Raistlin had given up hoping to find anyone like him so long ago he could barely remember it. Now he had found someone, he had no idea what to do.

And last night. Dalamar's hands on him, sitting so close he could feel the warmth of his body, the heat of his breath. He had... _wanted_. Wanted more clearly and decisively than he ever had before. He'd felt captivated, wanting more without having a clue what that _more_ would be.

Everything had been so simple four days ago, Raistlin thought ruefully. And maybe some part of him did wish- weakly and without much conviction- that he had never met Dalamar Nightson in the first place, but most of him still _wanted_ , was drawn and attracted to the Dark elf like a moth to a candle flame.

Dalamar sat up, and rubbed his face. He didn't look like he'd slept much either. He looked at Raistlin and gave a tired smile. Raistlin returned it, acknowledging their mutual exhaustion. "You didn't sleep either." Dalamar covered a yawn. "What is your excuse?"

Raistlin frowned, smile fading. Couldn't he see that? "If you are so clever, Nightson, find out for yourself." His voice came out harsher than he intended, irritated and peevish.

Dalamar didn't react, just nodded wearily. "I think I can guess." He was still smiling, resigned. "All I can say is to repeat what I said yesterday. I am no threat to you."

He got up, and walked down to a nearby stream to wash. Raistlin watched him go, feeling a little of the tension in his soul relax, a small flicker of relief. He believed Dalamar. That much, he could trust. Finally, so tired he didn't care anymore, he let the matter die then and there, focusing his little energy on getting up and active. He waited until Dalamar had finished at the stream and was busying himself with breakfast before he washed. The events of the previous night were uncomfortably vivid, but by the Gods Raistlin hadn't had a decent wash for days unless he counted the rain, and the stream was cold, fresh, and clear.

They walked side by side today, not speaking, stares locking more often, and several times Raistlin felt the slow, banked fire that had tormented him the evening before, the burning urge to touch the Dark elf. The encounter last night had shaken everything again and both needed affirmation. Oh by the Gods, what had he gotten himself into? Raistlin wondered, glancing across at Dalamar who walked with his head down, studying the ground. And where was it leading them?

He could stop this, whatever it was, as soon as he wanted. He would just tell Dalamar that he was no longer playing this twisted game and ignore him. He could, but Raistlin knew very well that he wouldn't. Any more than Dalamar could, at this juncture.

Curiosity - a mage's curse.

The sun rose, hotter than the last few days. The standing puddles steamed and Raistlin coughed, his throat tight in the humidity. Beside him, Dalamar turned his head up to the sun, closing his weary eyes for a moment. “Was the winter very harsh, in Tarsis?” He said softly.

Dalamar’s mouth twisted. “You could have forgotten the sun.” He said flatly. He pulled his cloak around himself despite the suffocating heat, and kept walking, head down to cut off any more attempts at conversation.

Raistlin found his own pace faltering. His breath seemed to come in clouds around him; he batted at the flies starting to swarm, stumbled as the air struggled to fill his lungs. He tried to keep going- after last night, he wondered if Dalamar would bother to wait- but finally had to give up and collapsed under the shade of a tree, trying to catch his breath.

His fears were unfounded. Dalamar stopped, waiting in the road for a moment, then walking back and sitting beside him. He pulled out his waterskin, and drank.

“You hardly have to wait for me,” Raistlin sighed.

Dalamar looked at him, his eyes heavy and shadowed. Despite his weariness, his face was impassive. “You are fascinating,” he said, but the words were starting to wear thin. “I've no wish to leave you behind.”

Raistlin gave him a sharp look, Dalamar knew better than that. “This game has moved beyond fascination for both of us." Raistlin was rewarded by seeing the Dark elf's expressionless mask slip, and beneath, he seemed just as lost as Raistlin was.

Dalamar sighed and nodded, turning his head to stare at the open road.

"Was this what you had in mind when we began this little mutual inquisition?" Raistlin continued. Whatever _this_ was.

Dalamar shrugged. "As if I know; believe me Raistlin, if anyone knows where this is heading, it is you."

"I know nothing."

"And I know less."

But despite everything, sitting there together, quiet and still and weary, felt _right_. It felt good. Raistlin felt the tension knotting up his spine fade and relax. Dalamar was quiet, letting the moment stretch- and probably enjoying the rest himself. Raistlin closed his eyes, leant back against the tree trunk.

He felt... safe.

He shouldn’t. He actually knew very little about Dalamar. He should have been worried, suspicious of the Dark elf. He could have been lying about everything he had told Raistlin. He could have been a murderer, a robber-

And he wasn’t, Raistlin knew _that_ as well as he knew his own name. He felt too tired to fight, so he let the calm wash over him, relaxed in Dalamar’s presence. He knew the Dark elf, was beginning to learn how he would act. Dalamar wouldn’t taunt him like his classmates; he wouldn't patronise him like Caramon; wouldn't scorn him, like most did. And above all, unlike just about everyone else Raistlin knew, Dalamar didn't feel uneasy around him.

“Why else are we doing this, but for knowledge?” Raistlin echoed Dalamar’s words from yesterday. “Unless, of course, you wish to stop? _”_ He opened his eyes, smiled at the Dark elf.

Dalamar blinked at him, smiling despite himself at having his own words thrown back at him. “You are good at this,” he said softly. “You read more in me than I give you credit for.”

But despite this- even when they returned to the road- Dalamar went back to trying to close himself off. Any attempts to speak to him were cut off with monosyllabic answers- or ignored, which dried up conversations faster than a riverbed in summer. Raistlin shrugged off his frustrations, watching Dalamar. This was what Dalamar had been faced with yesterday, when Raistlin had shut down.

And he could see why Dalamar had been able to read him so well when he was the one not talking. Emotions flashed quite openly on his face while he stared at the ground, still silent. Confusion, interest, fear- fear? Why would he fear- and slight wistfulness crossed Dalamar's features. His eyes darted quickly to Raistlin, his hands flexed, and he looked away wearily.

Just looking at him sparked that uncertain emotion- deep and maddening, drawing his eyes back, again and again, to his companion. Never quite enough, always wanting more, a sort of... attraction. It _was_ attraction, a sort of deep hook lodged somewhere deep inside him, making him want.

Unbidden, the memory of his reaction to their nighttime conversation- if it could be termed that- rose from whatever dark corner of his mind he had shoved it into earlier. Dalamar’s hands, warm and so light against his arm, tracing out senseless patterns on his skin. Breath against his, the brush of black robes against his hands-

And he had _wanted._ That fierce, hungry attraction that had no sense to it, no direction, just a nameless, ravenous _more_.

More- sexually?

Raistlin felt his face start to heat even at the thought. He had no idea. He had never so much as touched another person in... that way. He had barely _thought_ of anyone that way, and had felt wrong and uncomfortable even doing that.

And yesterday, he had been a heartbeat away from kissing Dalamar.

Very well, Raistlin turned his face away from the Dark elf, worried Dalamar would be able to look at him and read his traitorous thoughts. Assuming it was sexual, what then? Dalamar was a man, and although Raistlin was perfectly aware that was no barrier for some people, he had never considered himself one of them. He had only ever thought of women like that-

And felt uncomfortable about it, and vaguely sick. For a moment, Raistlin let his eyes rest on Dalamar, and forced himself to imagine what would have happened last night, if Dalamar had _not_ pulled away. If he had kissed Raistlin.

The though unlocked a mass of such conflicting emotions Raistlin could barely make head or tail of them. But they were not uncomfortable, nor sickening. Quite the contrary, actually. Dalamar was very attractive, and incredibly intriguing.

Could it be possible that he had been hiding something so important from himself, for the sake of competing with his idiot brother? Raistlin felt his face flush again, and worse, felt Dalamar's eyes on him.

He schooled his features, trying very hard to push away the image of that imagined kiss, and failing completely. "Yes?" He raised his eyebrows, proud of his pretended innocence.

Dalamar smiled. "This has gotten out of our control, hasn't it?" Simple and frank, nothing hidden or implied. Just stating the clear facts.

Raistlin could only nod. It had, completely.

"Odd really." Dalamar's voice was biting, but not at Raistlin. "All our efforts to control our emotions, and this is where it leads us. I'm not used to losing control- and neither are you- and yet they run away with us." The last with surprising bitterness.

Raistlin nodded again slowly. He had realised the same, but he was curious to see where Dalamar was going with this.

"I just never thought-" Dalamar seemed to recall he wasn't alone, and pressed his mouth shut before anything else could escape.

"Well?" Raistlin prompted.

"Well what?" Dalamar looked, once again, impassive.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing."

"Noth- Oh to the Abyss with it." Exasperated, Raistlin shook his head and gave up on the conversation. He had read enough from the Dark elf's expression to guess at what the rest of the sentence would have been.

_I never really thought I would lose that control, especially around you._

Well, that made both of them then. Raistlin sighed, and looked up to where the sun was slowly setting behind the mountains. Again, he wondered where this game- although game hardly seemed the right word anymore- was taking them.

Finally, Dalamar slowed down and started off the road. The trees were heavier now, a sign they were getting close to Solace Vale. They gathered wood and started the fire in silence, eating the cold leftovers from their lunch. Gods, but Raistlin was tired, from yesterday's sleepless night, from the walk today, from the effort it took to try and read through Dalamar's tight masks.

Masks that were slipping. Dalamar's eyes were drifting closed despite his efforts to stay awake. He looked exhausted. "You can rest," Raistlin said. His voice came out oddly soft.

"Hard to do so now," Dalamar murmured, but leant back, resting his back against a tree.

"You don't trust me?" Raistlin cleared the ground of stray stones and twigs, and stretched out. His bones ached in relief. Even the hard ground was a blessing after a day on the road.

"I do not know who to trust anymore," Dalamar breathed.

"I won't be the one to drag you down." At that, his own words, Dalamar opened his eyes and looked at Raistlin, curled up at the fireside, watching him steadily. For a moment, a wild, fierce emotion broke through the Dark elf's mask- and was gone in almost the same heartbeat. "You don't have to fear me either."

"I know." Dalamar rested a hand on his face, pinched the bridge of his nose. "It isn't you."

"Who then?" Raistlin looked around pointedly. There was no one for miles.

"Do you trust me?" Dalamar said instead.

Raistlin blinked because- yes. It sounded like madness in his own mind, but it was true. He trusted Dalamar because he saw something of himself in the Dark elf's eyes. He knew when he was to be trusted and when not, and so far, he hadn't been proved wrong. He took a breath, and let it out. "Yes."

Dalamar nodded. "I trust you," he agreed, and Raistlin felt a spark of something- hot and sweet and warm inside him. "I trust you because you are- like me." He waited until Raistlin nodded. "You are like me in many ways. You love the magic, you are talented and devoted, and loyal to our art." Raistlin nodded again, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Dalamar stared into the fire, bright and alive in its glow. "I know you because I know myself. And I trust you, at a time when I can no longer trust myself."

Raistlin looked away, feeling cold despite the fire. Because Dalamar was right. His control over himself had slipped so completely that all he could do was to try and ride the resulting storm. He could barely pick out his own emotions, let alone hold them back. He trusted Dalamar, yes, but how reliable could his feelings be now?

"I can read you like a book." Dalamar's voice was flat. "Don't try and hide your emotions now."

Raistlin shrugged. "Then forget this game. It is barely one anymore, there's no point in trying to turn it back into one."

Dalamar's smiled, nodded his agreement. "You are right, of course, and after-" he broke off.

"After last night," Raistlin finished for him. "What was that? What did you want?"

Dalamar tried to close himself off- but Raistlin had been right, this had gone far beyond such little pretences. He closed his eyes instead, turned away. "Never mind."

Looked at the tension in his neck, his clenched fists... "You're angry."

"It hardly matters." Bitter, but again, Raistlin didn't think it was directed at him. Whoever Dalamar was angry at, it wasn't Raistlin.

Angry at himself. Well, Raistlin had been there. He sighed, settled down to sleep. "I am no danger to you."

It might have been his sleep-befuddled eyes, but Raistlin wondered if the tension in Dalamar's body relaxed at this, just a little. What did he fear? Raistlin closed his eyes. Had he felt it too? This strange shift from curiosity and fascination to this nameless attraction? This- desire? Was that really what Dalamar feared? He could hardly think Raistlin any kind of threat-

Any more thoughts faded and muted to dreams, he was asleep in moments.

And let fate take them where it would.


	5. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be sex.

 

Exhaustion drew them into sleeping later than usual the next morning, and Raistlin woke stiff and head-foggy, the sun just visible between the mountains. Dalamar was already awake, but judging by the barely-rekindled fire, he had not been for long. His eyes were on Raistlin, expression strange and distant.

Raistlin sat up and he looked away, pensively into the fire. Waved at the small gathering of roots and berries for breakfast- Raistlin had been wrong, he'd been awake for a while.

"Did you at least sleep?" Raistlin took a sip from his waterskin to wash the sleep from his mouth.

Dalamar just nodded once. Again, that strange look. Calm, and piercing and- calculating, as though Dalamar was trying to make his mind up about something.

Raistlin smiled, chewed on a dry late-winter apple. "Then by all means, stay silent. Your face tells me everything I want to know anyway."

Dalamar smiled back a little, just the slight crook to his lips. It warmed his pale face, and somewhere inside Raistlin's chest. But he said nothing, only rising after they'd finished their meal, kicking earth over the fire and nodding to the road- _let's go_.

Despite his silence, Dalamar made no attempt to pull away from Raistlin as they walked. Instead, he deliberately matched pace with him, walking just a little closer than before. The proximity felt strange, but welcome, despite the host of confused emotions it woke inside Raistlin.

Gods, he- he really did want this, didn't he? He wanted to reach out and breach that insignificant distance between them, touch Dalamar's hand, his arm, brush against the stray curls of hair that spilled out under his hood. Not just the fascination of the mind or the attraction drawing him to the only person in whom he recognised himself. He wanted more. Touch, hands on his. Skin against skin. He wanted. He desired.

And just how was he going to go about that? He snarled at himself in a voice that was more helpless than angry. What did he know of matters of the flesh? He, who had never so much as _touched_ someone in lust, who'd found the whole business disgusting less than a week ago-

But even in his mind, the words sounded hollow. This was far more than simply blind lust. More than his sister panting after men like a dog in heat. More than his brother's mindless rutting pursuits. He didn't know what this was, didn't know if it even had a name. Maybe it was something new, something just for the two of them, and they would decide where it went.

The thought was warming, relaxing the knot of nervous terror that the very thought of carnal activities had tied in his stomach. Yes, Dalamar was extraordinarily attractive and Raistlin wanted to... Gods, he barely knew _how_ to think about it. To... touch, explore skin as well as thought, learn who Dalamar was outside as well as in.

Raistlin swallowed, feeling rather hot. His hands itched and he wanted to stop Dalamar, right here, in the road. Take his hands as Dalamar had held his two days ago and kiss him. And oh by the Abyss, it was hard even to think about it, even in the supposed privacy of his own mind.

Then- what? What would Dalamar do? Pull away, as he had those two nights ago? Kiss back? Pull Raistlin off the road and take their clothes off and do things Raistlin couldn't even imagine but was beginning to realise he very much wanted to do? Or, would he lash out, hurt Raistlin, and storm off, leaving him wounded and alone in the road?

That one, at least, Raistlin was sure would not happen.

He almost did it. He slowed his pace, and when Dalamar slowed his in response and turned to look at him, Raistlin nearly reached out and touched fingers to the Dark elf's pale face, felt the texture of his skin, the indentation of his jaw, the edge of his ear. He nearly closed the space between them, caught his mouth in his and-

And did nothing. And didn't even move; hands grasping, open and empty at his sides, useless. Because this was... a delusion. No one had ever wanted him like that. No one ever would, let alone someone as beautiful and fierce and brilliant as Dalamar. What would he possibly want with a bony, half crippled _boy_ who could barely cast a few spells?

Dalamar's eyes met his, and narrowed, cutting deep and tearing out the miserable shame boiling in his heart. He shook his head, "No."

The word cut sharp through the tension, and Raistlin shivered, unable to look away. Dalamar's eyes were bright as new-forged knives, and just as hungry. They devoured him. "That's not true," Dalamar breathed. "And you know it." He was so close, and his hands moved, little, abortive motions, as though he wanted to touch Raistlin very much, but didn't dare.

Then he turned, and continued walking. As though nothing had happened, as though Raistlin wasn't shivering, trying to catch his breath, just behind him.

And he was shaking too. Raistlin could see it in the clenched knots of his hands, the slightly unsteady steps. Gods, what _was_ this? Dalamar had- he had seen it, in his eyes. He felt it too. Dalamar had looked at Raistlin as he had never been looked at before. With _desire_. The road felt unsteady underfoot, threatened to slip away when he tried to keep up with the Dark elf.

Dalamar must have read enough in Raistlin's face to know. Gods knew Raistlin was doing a pathetic job of shielding his emotions. Dalamar knew, and clearly felt the same- and he had walked away.

Was he afraid? It seemed absurd, but Raistlin couldn't think of any other possibility. It was hardly how he would have imagined this going. Honestly, Raistlin was surprised _he_ wasn't the one more discomforted by this new change. He would have thought Dalamar would have been on familiar ground. Striking as he was, Raistlin would have assumed the Dark elf was used to being an object of desire.

And apparently, he was completely wrong about that. Or perhaps he was right, but Dalamar was not at all happy with this turn of affairs.

He picked up his pace, pulling even with Dalamar- but the Dark elf had his head down, and did not speak. Raistlin sighed, and resigned himself to waiting until they had an opportune moment to talk.

Which did not come, because for the first time since Raistlin had met Dalamar, they were not alone on the road.

First they passed a peddler, wares roped to him, tottering up the road north, perhaps heading for Haven. Then a small mercenary group, also heading north, later still a gaggle of farm workers, who gasped and scuttled away at the sight of the grim faced Dark elf. Dalamar sighed and looked scornfully at Raistlin. "Fools." He spoke for the first time since that morning.

Raistlin glanced back. The peasants were already out of sight beyond a bend, all but running to get away from the two mages. "Quite." He smiled at Dalamar, trying to coax a smile back. "Although I've no doubt you look very threatening."

"Like I would waste magic on them," Dalamar growled, and turned away again.

"What is the matter with you?" Raistlin stepped closer to the elf, skin suddenly tingling at their proximity. He reached out a hand and let it hover, barely an inch from Dalamar's arm. And unspoken question, hanging in the air between them.

Dalamar looked at him for a moment. The masks slipped and he was... confused and tired, and beneath that, that same desperate, hungry _yearning_. He stared at Raistlin's hand, the silent offer, and for a moment, seemed as though he might take it.

Then he sighed, shook his head, turned away.

Raistlin drew in a deep breath. As frustrating as this was- they were getting somewhere. Wherever that might be.

He was beginning to get sick of waiting for answers.

Dalamar didn't speak again until they had left the road that evening. They walked further than usual, into a grove of trees a few hundred feet from the road and down into a small hollow full of dead leaves. Raistlin cleared a space for the fire as Dalamar gathered up dead wood, but then the elf only dropped the bundle to the ground, looking pensively at Raistlin.

"I am sorry about my reaction today," He said softly.

Raistlin blinked, surprised; an apology was the last thing he had been expecting from Dalamar.

"I can give only two reasons for why I was so... antisocial, the first being that I had not remotely imagined this game would lead us here, and that I didn't want- well, I believed at first you would act like others I have known."

"You believed I would see this solely as a carnal matter," Raistlin finished. His heart beat faster, reverberating beneath his throat.

"Exactly." Dalamar looked slightly relieved. "I can know most people backwards in less than a day, know how they act, what motivates them. Like you do." He walked around the discarded firewood, and once again, they were close enough to touch, Raistlin's breathing stuttered and he thought he heard Dalamar's own breath catch.

He could only nod.

"I don't know you fully now, but it's already been several days, which is a record I might add, so I do know you somewhat, well enough to know that lust would not be a motivator- or at least not the driving one- am I right so far?" Dalamar was smiling, just a little, that bright, sweet smile. He reached out, and rested a hand, so very lightly, against Raistlin's.

Raistlin nodded again. Turned his hand and let his fingers brush Dalamar's palm. His fingers were warm, weathered but soft.

"Good. Forgive me, but my previous interactions with humans have somewhat tainted my view of them." Dalamar lifted his free hand and gently brushed the back of it against Raistlin's hair, the light touch sending a bolt of lightning up his spine. "I understood your reasons for continuing this game, and I didn't doubt that my emotions were shared-" A lopsided smile- "That was quite clear, especially after this morning."

"And what are your motivations?" Raistlin was surprised at how calm his voice sounded, considering how unsure he was. But then again, he had been sure of so very little in the past few days, what difference did this make?

"I-" Dalamar's smile softened a little, self-deprecating. "I want you."

And _Gods,_ those words.... Raistlin had never... he had never imagined he would hear them; had convinced himself he had never wanted to, and it took actually hearing them to drive home how very much he did. They lit something sharp and fervid inside him, hungry and blazing and vividly alive.

Dalamar's hand trailed down to his neck, fingertips barely tracing the soft skin there. "I never-" He swallowed tried to steady his voice. "I had not imagined I would… feel this again." He closed his eyes, his smile broadened, and Raistlin-

Raistlin wanted to kiss him very, very badly.

"You are- captivating." Raistlin could barely recognise his own voice, was amazed it was so steady. "I want you too. That is as far as I've been able to get." Right now, it was hard to think about anything else. Fire as all-consuming and devouring as the magic ran up his spine, set his body alight.

"I know." Dalamar leant his head down, let their foreheads touch. Strands of black hair brushed Raistlin's cheeks, his eyes. Dalamar smelled of lightning and woodsmoke. "I thought you might have, which brings me to the other reason I kept silent today." The hand in his hair turned, ran nails shiver-light along his scalp. "I had to know." Dalamar whispered. "I had to know I was right in thinking you were an exception. I had to get you off your guard and see if I was right."

Raistlin closed his eyes, sank both hands into Dalamar's silk-soft hair, and kissed him.

The elf's lips moved against his own, surprisingly soft, mouthing gently before pressing harder. Dalamar tilted his head slightly to get better access, a tongue parting Raistlin's lips and brushing against his teeth.

Raistlin shivered, tilting his head up in return. By the magic, he might know nothing about this but he'd _burn_ before he let Dalamar get the upper hand in this. They began this game as equals and they would remain so. He kissed Dalamar again, mouth slightly open, and he felt their teeth press together, sharp and hungry. Then he started, feeling the Dark elf's tongue slide over his teeth and into his mouth.

The touch was as galvanising as it was unexpected, and Raistlin shuddered, the intimate touch sending a bolt of pure lust straight through him. His head tilted back, Dalamar's hand cradling the back of his neck, and he groaned as the Dark elf drew them closer, until the only thing between them was their clothing. He could feel Dalamar's heart beating beneath his robes, and the pleasant scratch as his hands combed through his hair.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Dalamar's eyes were dilated, his hands still entangled in Raistlin's hair, while his were firmly clasped around the elf's waist. Raistlin shivered, suddenly quite aware of the sublimely painful ache between his legs, of the strange but deliciously arousing pressure of the elf's erection against his stomach. He felt excited and terrified and almost ecstatically happy.

Raistlin's arms wrapped around Dalamar's neck, clutching tightly as their teeth clashed together messily. A little tentatively, he tried to copy the elf, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Dalamar's teeth were strangely smooth, his tongue rough as it licked against his. Raistlin could taste the dried fruit they had had for supper, overlaying an earthy, autumnal taste that was at once alien and delicious.

Dalamar pulled away, his breath coming in short pants, one hand stroking roughly down the side of Raistlin's face. The other was tight on Raistlin's shoulder as he guided them down, down to the crackling bed of dead leaves under them.

Raistlin smiled up at Dalamar, one hand coiling around his neck to bring him down too. Dalamar was beautiful; the mixture of Solinari and Lunitari's moonlight warped him into a something so surreal that Raistlin had problems believing what he was seeing. Beautiful, though not a romantic's idea of a lover, but beauty is fleeting and only skin deep anyway, when what drew Raistlin was what was behind those flame-tinted eyes, that blood-bathed skin: a mind even he could barely read, yet one which drew him with every piece of knowledge uncovered, a spirit which matched his, will for will, a soul which seemed to echo his, bright and fierce and indomitable. 

The first person Raistlin had met that he could full-heartedly trust.

Dalamar lowered his head again and trailed his tongue along Raistlin's neck, hands now fumbling with the ties of his robes. Raistlin let out a soft sigh of pleasure, then had to bite his lip to avoid crying out as Dalamar bit down at the tender place where neck met collarbone, lightning burning down his spine.

"You can make all the noise you want," Dalamar whispered, the soft brush of breath sending shivers down Raistlin's back again. "It's the middle of the night, no one can hear you."

Raistlin's hands found the fastenings of Dalamar's robes, and started unknotting them. The skin beneath was smooth and almost blazingly hot. "Then why are you whispering?" he challenged, voice cracking in his throat.

Dalamar laughed, low and panting. Nipped another light bite, this time at the side of his neck. "I have to ask, have you been with a man before?"

Oh, those hands, sliding under his robes and mapping out along his chest, his stomach, his back. Raistlin shivered and looked up at Dalamar and- oh. The words suddenly hit him. They were about to have sex. _He,_ Raistlin Majere, was about to have sex. The thought was vaguely incredulous. "I've never even been with a woman before," he managed.

"Oh believe me," Dalamar whispered, nuzzling the crook of Raistlin's neck, "women are overrated."

Then he bit down, harder. It hurt, but so sweetly and deliciously that Raistlin could only gasp, pulling Dalamar's robes down over his shoulders and digging his nails into the Dark elf's back. Dalamar hissed in pleasure and licked the bitemark, sucking on it as his hands found Raistlin's belt, and unknotted it.

Dalamar kissed him again, a brief flash of teeth and tongue and love-stung lips that left him gasping for air, then tracked down Raistlin neck, teeth and nails, over his chest, to bite gently around one nipple.

Raistlin forgot about breathing. It felt- sweet, delicious as raw honey running down his throat. Dalamar was panting- and just for a moment, Raistlin thought he heard something of a laugh, just under his breath. Vivid and incredibly joyful, as though Dalamar couldn't _believe_ he was doing this, he bit again, very lightly, and sucked, hands starting to wander under Raistlin's clothes.

Ah no. Raistlin smiled, and pulled Dalamar back up by the shoulders. The Dark elf was grinning, absolutely delighted. He helped Raistlin finish removing his black robes, stripping bare beneath the red moon's light, blood-bathed and lovely. He rubbed his face against Raistlin's narrow chest, like an affectionate cat, and opened Raistlin's robes to the waist.

Then Dalamar looked at him, and Raistlin felt something cold, hard lock in his stomach. He could see the Dark elf's eyes taking in his skinny body, the bones that showed prominently along his chest and hips, the pallid skin. He remembered being laughed at as a child, bathing in the lake. He imagined Dalamar laughing too.

Raistlin swallowed, doubt stealing his enthusiasm and dampening his arousal, all too aware that he had no idea what he was doing. He had never done this before, and knew perfectly well the reason. It was his mind the Dark elf was so enticed by, not his body- Raistlin couldn't imagine who'd be so interested in _that_ \- and he was probably very disappointed at what Raistlin looked like with his clothes off.

Instead of laughing, or pulling away, Dalamar bent down and kissed Raistlin's forehead, each eye, his nose, before dipping in to capture his mouth in a deep, searing kiss. Raistlin's mind went blank, the doubt burning away to nothing. He opened uncertain eyes to Dalamar's smile- gentler now, fond.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Dalamar murmured, his eyes belying his soft tone, bright and hungry.

Hungry for him, Raistlin marveled. This beautiful, incredible creature, burning in Lunitari's light like something born of the magic itself, wanted him. It was almost too much to imagine.

Dalamar kissed him. Not a hungry, demanding kiss like the others had been; this was soft, slow, tender. Dalamar's eyes were closed, and his hands were on Raistlin's robes, pulling them loose, then reached up and gently peeled them from his shoulders. A small gesture, but erotic in a way Raistlin couldn't describe. He kissed back, arching his back and allowing Dalamar to ease his robes down, the fabric pooling around his waist. It was a chill night but Raistlin didn't even notice, groaning into the kiss, as Dalamar's fingers hooked into his smallclothes and pulled them down, taking his robes with them. He started as the Dark elf's hand brushed over his erection.

Dalamar broke the kiss and pulled Raistlin close again, his skin prickled at the strange feeling of bare skin against bare skin, soft and almost warming with friction. Dalamar's skin was fine and firm and almost hairless. Raistlin hooked a leg over Dalamar's and Dalamar hissed into his hair, bodies grinding together hungry and hot and _yes_. Dalamar's breathing was unsteady, body trembling and fiercely aroused, and _Raistlin did this_. He couldn't stop grinning. Experimentally, remembering how good it had felt, he nosed his way into the crook of Dalamar's neck and bit down, first lightly, then harder.

Dalamar growled suddenly, making him start as the Dark elf's nails dug into his skin. He could feel the soft skin reverberate against his lips, and opened his mouth, licking along the muscles running up to the elf's chin. Dalamar tasted of earth, smoke from the fire, and a sharp spice that reminded Raistlin of the magic. Dalamar's hand clutched convulsively at the back of his neck, his head tilting back to allow him better access. Raistlin smiled against Dalamar's throat, and licked a line up from the neck to the base of his left ear. He nipped at the edge of the ear experimentally, and was rewarded by a muffled curse from Dalamar. The elf reached out a hand and pulled him up until they were face to face, dragging him in for another scorching kiss, before pushing Raistlin down on his back and lying on top of him.

Raistlin gasped. The Dark elf's skin was hot against his, the softness of skin and the tightness of muscle overlaying bone burning his already heated flesh. He was hungry and aroused and by the Gods he wanted more. Judging by the hard erection pressed against his thigh he was pretty sure Dalamar was in full agreement.

Raistlin leant his head back against the cool grass, sighing in pleasure at the touch of Dalamar's slender hands on his aching cock. Very talented hands indeed. Gentle and rough and sharp and smooth in all the right places. Too aroused and dazed to be self-conscious, Raistlin grinned up the sky. To think he'd ever sneered at anything as wonderful as this!

But then, he'd never had anyone as amazing as Dalamar to enjoy it with.

Raistlin gave a low growl of protest when the Dark elf released him and sat back, one hand on Raistlin's waist to stop him  from sitting up too. Dalamar took hold of Raistlin's thigh, coaxing him to raise his leg, all the time smiling in a hungry yet strangely gentle way.

Raistlin did so, feeling both bemused and uncomfortable at once. He rested his ankle on the Dark elf's hip. Dalamar lifted one hand to his lips and started licking his fingers, smiling at Raistlin's slightly puzzled expression. Satisfied, Dalamar reached down out of Raistlin's sight.

Oh. Raistlin thought, feeling the Dark elf gently pressing two fingers inside him. That's why he was licking his fingers.

And it, well, it didn't exactly hurt- Dalamar was being too careful for that- but it was uncomfortable, not to mention incredibly embarrassing, to have someone touching him there. Was this entirely necessary? "Relax," Dalamar spoke quietly, "I don't want to hurt you, and this feels so, so good." The last purred, the reverberations running right up into Raistlin's chest and lodging there.

Then Dalamar did something with his fingers and _oh_. Oh sweet dear Magic, that fel- incredible. Lightning and fire and his whole body alive and crackling with pleasure. Dalamar kissed him, swift and bright and Raistlin was choking and gasping for breath. Another kiss, and Dalamar did it again and he was so close, electricity pooling low in his belly and he was far too close and not yet, not yet-

It took all of Raistlin's willpower to control himself, clenching his fists and arching his back against the pleasure. He caught his breath, opened his eyes. Dalamar was smiling at him, as though Raistlin was everything he could have ever wanted. He got another kiss, and then Dalamar withdrew his fingers. Raistlin shivered at the loss, dug his heel into Dalamar's back to encourage him to get on and do... something. He clearly had a plan even if Raistlin had no idea what it was so please get on and _do it_.

 Still smiling that incredible, broad smile, Dalamar bent down and rested Raistlin's legs on his shoulders, lifting his hips a little. Raistlin watched through a red-tinted lust haze as the Dark elf positioned himself over him. Leaning forward; iron hard, heated flesh pushing inside him-

It hurt; a raw, blunt ache that warred with the pleasure. Raistlin closed his eyes and tried to block it out, shivering. Dalamar rested his head against his, breath coming hard. "It gets better." His voice half choked off- but by pleasure rather than pain, shivering with want and the effort it took to do this slowly, not to just push into Raistlin and _take_. "Shh, it will be worth it." He panted, kissed Raistlin's forehead. "Here-" He smiled, pulled Raistlin's legs further up and-

Raistlin choked something incoherent, breath cut off as Dalamar thrust deeper, pushing against that place inside him that had made him see sparks not so long ago.

Not sparks now, but stars. An explosion wild as the magic, blazing brighter than the moons. A burst of bliss overlaying the pain.

Again.

No pain, at least none that Raistlin could feel over the blaze of pleasure alight inside him.

Again.

Oh, sweet deities... Raistlin thought, his hands knotted in Dalamar's tangled black hair, dragging on the snarled locks. More, damn you, oh Gods-

Again.

Ah, he couldn't hold on much longer; it felt much, much too good.

And again.

Raistlin threw back his head and actually screamed, let go and felt the fire engulf him.

Dalamar choked, biting Raistlin's shoulder to cut off his own cry, shuddering and coming in turn, going down in flames together.

Raistlin's next coherent thought arrived several minutes later. He was lying flat on his back in the damp grass, trying to catch his breath, hands still gripping Dalamar's hair.

Dalamar was slumped against Raistlin, all but purring with pleasure. He shifted slightly to pull out of Raistlin, a faint afterthought of pain, gone in a heartbeat, under the warm, thrumming pleasure. Dalamar lifted his head and flashed Raistlin a slow, lazy grin, like a cat who had just gotten the milk, before dropping his head back down to his chest and by all appearances, going to sleep.

Why not? Raistlin though muzzily; they were warm, they were comfortable- although by this point he would have happily slept on anything- and they were too tired to move. For a moment, he just caressed Dalamar's back, fingers tracing nonsense patterns across the sweat-soaked skin, gleaming in the moonlight. Dalamar sighed happily, turning his head and curling up against him, away from the night's chill.

Raistlin reached over to pull their discarded cloaks over themselves, bundling their robes to tuck under their heads. Then he let his eyes drift closed, going to sleep with a smile on his face.


	6. Trust

 

Raistlin awoke warm, damp with sweat and dew and aching in places he didn't think possible. They were still in the hollow, Dalamar hadn't moved, warm against him. He was asleep, long black hair coiling like rivers on the map of Raistlin's chest. For a moment, he could only touch them, run his fingers through the strands, and marvel.

Memories of the previous night flickered into his mind like candles. Oh Gods, that was one night he was never going to forget. It had been, simply speaking, mind-blowing. Gods, oh Gods. Raistlin grinned at his own foolishness, that he had ever thought _this_ was disgusting! This- intimacy; so warm, so delicious and awash with pleasure.

Raistlin craned his head and looked down at Dalamar's sleeping face. This was the person he'd slept with last night- him, Raistlin, who'd imagined no one would ever want him like that. This was the person who had made love to him. Who had shown him something he had never imagined, and made him feel, for the first time in his life, beautiful and desired.

And he felt it again now, looking at Dalamar as he slept, feeling a warm bubble of strange, pure joy welling inside him. And in that moment the pain didn't matter, the cold didn't matter, and he couldn't care less how hard the ground was. He felt wonderful.

He shifted, tried to curl up closer to Dalamar, and the Dark elf stirred, opening his eyes. He blinked a few times, then focused on Raistlin, a small, almost lost smile on his lips. He closed his eyes, then shifted when Raistlin reached down to stroke his hair. "Hmm." He sat up, massaging his scalp. "You nearly pulled my hair out last night," mock scolding, "I'm still sore."

"What a coincidence," Raistlin tried to sit up and hissed. That _hurt._ "So am I." How he was going to walk any distance today, he had no idea.

For a moment, he couldn't do anything but look down at Dalamar, grinning like an idiot. The Dark elf looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, smiling playfully in return. One hand was lifted and trailed lightly along Raistlin's jawbone. Well, maybe walking wasn't _that_ important after all.

Raistlin wanted to touch him, he wanted to hold Dalamar down and kiss him, and give him the same pleasure he had been shown last night. Instead, Dalamar rolled over him and stared up at the sky, one arm thrown over his chest, Raistlin shifted down and rested his head on Dalamar's shoulder. Warm, close. Gods, this felt wonderful. "You were very good last night," Dalamar murmured into his hair. "You were never with anyone before?"

Raistlin smiled. So very, very wonderful. "Never." He agreed. "Thank you."

They lay together, just a little longer, but the carpet of dead leaves was getting cold under them in the early morning mist, and Dalamar sighed and finally sat up. "We should probably get going soon, the sun will be up soon and I don't think we want anyone finding us like this." A hungry smile. "That is, we'll get going if you can walk. I've been in your position before," Dalamar stroked his hair, "I know what it's like."

"I had no doubt of that." Raistlin sat up. His body was stiff and painful and a little uncertain- but he'd had worse. "I can walk."

Dalamar nodded and slowly got up, then walked over to offer a hand to Raistlin.

"I'm quite certain I can manage standing up by myself." Raistlin frowned at him.

"Believe me, you'll get up all right, you'd just fall over immediately."

Raistlin didn't quite fall over, but he was glad of Dalamar's arm to steady himself when his legs wavered under him. "Thank you," He felt his cheeks burn.

Dalamar smiled, and there was something smug there, pleased with his handiwork. Raistlin would have felt irritated, but he couldn't care less and just smiled back as they sorted through their jumbled robes and cloaks and found their boots.

The silence between them was warm as they washed in the stream and ate the last of their supplies- they'd need to look for more today- and made their way back to the road. And maybe their quiet would have lasted longer, if they had been alone.

Instead, they had barely rounded the first bend before passing a group of merchants, wares piled high in baskets on their heads. They looked warily at the pair of them, and Raistlin felt his cheeks flush, as though they could somehow, at a glance, know what had happened last night. He didn't know if he should feel proud or embarrassed, so instead settled on not meeting anyone's eyes and keeping his own fixed on the road ahead.

Beside him, Dalamar had no such compulsions, glowering at the women until they hurried away, and pulling his cloak around himself as though trying to protect himself from something unseen. Raistlin hesitated, uncertain if he should touch Dalamar, or say something-

Dalamar turned away, not looking at him. Oh by the Abyss, not this again. Raistlin managed not to sigh. He didn't want their coupling to get in the way of their relationship, whatever it was right now. They had fit so well together, but now it felt as they were- out of sync, jutting edges and elbows into each other. Raistlin wanted to reach out and calm the air between them, settled the ruffled edges and ease them back into-

What?

Was there even a name for it? They were lovers, yes, although the term left a bad taste in Raistlin's mouth. Caramon had lovers. Kitiara had lovers. He didn't want to denigrate Dalamar by lumping him in with _those_ miserable souls.

They were companions, and yes, even friends, although definitely not in the typical sense. They trusted each other; knowledge that Raistlin found hard to believe considering that he had previously given his trust to nobody, yet Dalamar now had it, but that too fell short of the tangled knot of warm, hungry emotions he carried for the Dark elf.

Love? Raistlin smiled at the very idea, yet part of him argued the point; he had never been in love, how could he tell what it felt like? If this was love then, then all the tales he had heard of romance were gibberish. Well, look who was telling them, he answered himself, your brother and some idiotic friends of his.

Looking at Dalamar, Raistlin shelved that thought for another day. Feeling his eyes on him, Dalamar turned and met his gaze. He felt the discomfort between them too, and wanted to break it.

Well, there was one way of doing that. The same means that had led them down this extraordinary path to begin with. "You told me you were never taught," Raistlin walked a little closer to Dalamar, let their shoulders brush as they walked. "And you learned the magic in hidden places." He smiled, not bothering to hide his interest. "What hidden secrets did you find in Silvanesti of all lands?"

It worked, Dalamar stepped closer, his hand brushed Raistlin's. And oh, that fierce, burning pride in his face. Stripped of masks, bared and proud to the world, it was breathtaking. "There was a cave, not far from my home," he murmured, "Some dark mage had hidden books there, long ago. Who they were, and for what purpose-" He shook his head.

"They knew someone would find them." Raistlin finished.

"Someone who'd burn them, most likely," Dalamar retorted, then sighed.

"They would not have left books without purpose," Raistlin shook his head. "I think they knew who would find them."

The words teased another smile from Dalamar, slow and pleased. "I barely understood them," He continued, "I made it little further than the smallest spells, but it was more than I had ever had before." The smile turned inward, dry. "You have it rather easier, I think."

Raistlin thought of Theobald, his idiotic classmates, the mindless chores and maddening, almost unbearably slow creep of learning _anything_ -

He said nothing, but Dalamar must have seen something of it in his face. He shook his head. "Well, perhaps not easy, but I doubt you've ever needed to sneak  away, down cliffside paths by moonlight, to study books that may turn you insane or get you killed."

"Admittedly not." Raistlin agreed. "But they didn't kill you."

Dalamar tugged at his cloak again, a nervous tick. "Death is preferable to exile, for a Silvanesti."

Dalamar was good at guarding his expression, but there was no mistaking the flash of pain that crossed his face at that. Raistlin swallowed, feeling suddenly uncertain, not knowing if he should change the subject or try and say- something- or just stop and put his arms around Dalamar.

Gods, he was _dreadful_ at this.

"Is it?" His mouth felt dry. "To you?"

Dalamar looked away, at the trees close around the road, the budding leaves of early spring, and a little of the tension left his shoulders. "I'm not a Silvanesti, not anymore."

Raistlin continued, carefully. This was the most open Dalamar had been about his past, and he didn't want to go too far and make him shut down again. "What did you find in the books?"

"Too little." Dalamar sighed, his hands went to his belt, to the bundle of scrolls hand-stitched into a crude spellbook. "Too much was beyond my ability, it would have driven me mad- or burned out my eyes. I did not dare to study them too closely. But what I was able to learn was invaluable." Another sigh.

Raistlin tried not to think of what had happened to the spellbooks, why Dalamar didn't have them with him. The fools. The _utter_ fools. "All magic is invaluable." He agreed, and, deciding Dalamar might accept comfort for this, took his hand.

Dalamar smiled, and didn't pull away. Good. His hand was warm in Raistlin's, it felt- good, purely, simply _good_. "Was that why you were exiled?"

Dalamar nodded, "I'm afraid I have no tales of summoning demons- or striking down certain insufferable overseers- to offer. I had gone to the cave- a good two years ago now. Before, I had only ever come at night, ashamed of my actions, but that day-" Dalamar shrugged, as though trying to play down the memory. A memory very, very dear to him, that much was absolutely clear. "I had come to know the truth. I was no white robe, even if they would have me. My heart didn't belong to Solinari, nor to any of the elven Gods of light. It was in the cave, in the darkness, with Nuitari." Dalamar broke off, looked at Raistlin, there was a- crack, somewhere behind his eyes, something raw and vulnerable. "Why am I telling you this?"

If he said the wrong thing now, everything would be ruined. Raistlin met Dalamar's eyes easily. "Because I won't berate you, accuse you or otherwise fail to understand what you did and why."

Dalamar smiled; good, Raistlin apparently _could_ manage this. "You're quite right. Thank you. When I arrived at the cave I gathered the books and knelt as far back in the shadows as I could get. I stacked the books next to me and spoke. I proclaimed my loyalty to Nuitari, swore myself... I... it's very hard to explain what happened then." Again, that crack, that edge, like venturing onto thin ice, waiting to see if it would bear their weight.

Again, Raistlin didn't look away. "I was thirteen when I swore myself to the Gods of magic." He said instead. "I know what I saw. I imagine you saw something similar."

Dalamar nodded slowly. "I thought you might have. There was black fire, flames licking up from the books, flaring up yet creating more shadows than they revealed, flames as bright as if the books were going up in flames, but they weren't even singed... It was completely surreal, but beautiful. I had never thought of- never imagined magic like that." Dalamar paused, and smiled, lifting one hand to his face, "I could see the night sky in those flames," He said softly, "The stars, the moons, _all_ the moons." He looked up at the sky as though he could see his patron’s moon, smiling, "The first time I saw Nuitari." Dalamar seemed to be speaking to himself more than to Raistlin.

Raistlin thought of that day in Theobald's laboratory, the lambskin parchment crumbling and burning to ashes under the force of his magic. He said nothing, couldn't think of anything else to say, just held Dalamar's hand as they walked, Dalamar lost in his memories.

"And then?" He said finally, when Dalamar seemed to have forgotten his story.

Dalamar's mouth twisted. "And then the guards rushed in and grabbed me." His voice cold, impersonal as though he was talking about someone else. "I had been missed, you see. My overseer had wanted me for some task and realised I had left my duties. The guards were set to follow me and- well, I am no scout to hide my tracks." He pulled at his cloak again. A shield against unpleasant memories.

"And the books?" Raistlin asked, unable to help it.

"Burnt, no doubt. I suspect they might have wanted to burn me along with them but-" he shrugged, as though the horror of that time could be shaken off as easily as a fly. "I was exiled, they were destroyed."

"A mindless waste." Raistlin said tartly, squeezing Dalamar's hand a little. Not just the books. Still, Raistlin was hardly complaining.

Dalamar looked down, as though he'd forgotten they were holding hands.  He nodded, amused. "Yes."

"And after that?"

"I was tied hand and foot, blindfolded, and thrown out." Dalamar's voice turned colder, sharper, "Do you need details?"

Raistlin backed away, this was another sharp edge, a spike in Dalamar's defenses he wasn't willing to lower. "After that," He explained. "In Tarsis."

And that- didn't get a spike. That didn't get anything. Dalamar pulled his hand out of Raistlin's, and said nothing. His jaw clenched, and the steel masks that had been thankfully absent today crashed down- but not before Raistlin caught a glimpse of the poignant emotion beneath.

Shame.

Raistlin couldn't think of anything to say, only feeling the fierce urge to reach out and hold Dalamar. His hand, his arm, turn him and pull him into his arms- he wasn't sure. Something to breach the edges and juts between them.

Then again, he had tried and only ended up back here again.

But this time, Dalamar only walked a little further before turning back to Raistlin. His face was calm, but there was a shadow of the mask still on his features, closing off whatever he still felt the need to hide. "Now, your turn. How did you learn the magic? Without the evasions, this time."

Raistlin smiled, feeling the tension relax between them again. "And what evasions are those?" Archly, making Dalamar smile.

"You live with your family," Dalamar listed off, "A brother, a sister, and I assume your parents? You are young enough. But you have told me nothing about any of them."

Raistlin had to fight not to react, senseless fear locking up his spine. He turned quickly to the safer topics. "I did not mention my parents because they are both dead." Bluntly. "My father in a woodcutting accident, and my mother-" Raistlin stopped, feeling an old stab of pain. Maybe not such a safe topic, after all. "My mother was a seer."

Dalamar tilted his head, that old expression of fascination on his face. "She was a mage?"

Raistlin shook his head, "She was untrained. Her powers-" He broke off, words tasting like ash on his lips. His mother, dying, wasting away into a skeleton, a doll-self of shadows and bones and wide, staring eyes.

This time, Dalamar took his hand. "And you gained your powers from her. She must have been powerful indeed." An edge of bitterness.

Of course. Dalamar would understand. Where would he have been, had he not found those spellbooks? What would have become of him? His magic could never have been satisfied with scraps. "She saw many things." Raistlin forced himself to finish. "She spoke of them sometimes. Eventually, they devoured her. She stopped eating." He shook himself, but the memories were not thrown off so easily. "And you?" He tried to change the subject. "Who did you inherit your powers from?"

"No one." Dalamar shrugged. "I was an aberration. There was no one who understood.” He stroked Raistlin’s hand and Raistlin managed a sad smile. Yes, she had understood him, at least a little. He remembered her stories, the worlds she painted for him until Raistlin wanted to- wrap them around them both and take them away, into a brighter, softer reality.

They walked along in silence for a long moment, and Dalamar squeezed his hand before continuing. “Now, I do not believe you had finished."

"Unless you want to hear about my father-" Raistlin tried to cross his arms defensively, but Dalamar still had hold of his hand, and did not let go.

"No," he moved a little closer- just enough for them to bump shoulders, elbows, to trap Raistlin's hand in the hollow between their bodies. "But I am very curious why you are so eager to change the subject where your siblings are concerned."

_Oh Gods_. The worst part was that Raistlin barely knew himself, only that the thought of speaking about Caramon or Kitiara to Dalamar turned his stomach.

No. He did know. That was the worst part. Of course he knew. He was terrified Dalamar would react the same way everyone else did. Oh yes, on the road, Raistlin was no doubt very interesting, but compared against his brother and sister, who would prefer him? When had anyone ever desired Raistlin's company above Kitiara's? Or Caramon's?

Especially Caramon's.

And the emotions were so- _small_ , so petty and ridiculous, that Raistlin turned his face away, ashamed of what Dalamar must see on his face. He very much wanted the ground to open under him and swallow him. Dalamar had opened up to him about the darkest, most important time of his life and what did Raistlin have to offer? Sibling jealousy.

Dalamar... just smiled again, "The rivalry must be violent indeed if you don't want me to know about them."

Thank you Dalamar.

"Or is it that you're envious of them, and want to keep me to yourself?" It was impressive how Dalamar had managed to make such an... erotic statement matter of fact. All the same, Raistlin shivered a little, particularly when Dalamar ran his thumb over his knuckles.

"Both." Raistlin managed to get the word out and it felt like he'd pulled his entrails out with it. The miserable shame of it, the pathetic, mewling, _weak_ -

"Then I am very glad I never had brothers or sisters." Dalamar said simply. The words cut through the spiral of misery and Raistlin blinked. "I'm with you because you're the first person I've met that I can honestly respect, both due to your talents and to who you are. The first. And I've met a lot of people. I trusted you to not behave like others have when we lay together last night, now trust me not to behave like others have when you tell me about your siblings."

"My sister is a- mercenary." Raistlin said, the words coming with difficulty. "A formidable one. She has her schemes and I do not trust her." There was always something- dangerous about Kitiara, as though she was always just a hair's breadth from drawing steel on him. As though she was always looking for an excuse to. And Raistlin knew that if she acted upon that impulse- there was little he could do to stop her. She was stronger than he was.

Dalamar said nothing, so Raistlin continued, Caramon. Gods. He hated himself furiously even as he spoke. "My brother is- pleasant. Kind. Gullible as a gully dwarf and about as intelligent. Believes I am a cripple who must constantly be coddled." It was true, but it wasn't- right, it wasn't the reason. Raistlin took a breath, and threw the words over the edge to get them over with. "You are probably the first person who prefers my company to his."

"That sounds like a nightmare." Dalamar said softly. And Raistlin felt something- crack, inside him. Like an egg falling and shattering on a stone floor. No, not quite. Like an egg, but hatching. A rush of something warm inside him, filling him up. _Like me_. Gods, after all these years, someone _understood_. Didn't tell him he was the one who was wrong, that he should be grateful or try to be more like his siblings.

"You haven't met them." Raistlin said caustically.

"I don't need to." Dalamar answered calmly. "I know you, and I can see how you feel about them. I wouldn't trade places with you, and my family died before your parents were probably even born."

There was nothing Raistlin could say to that. They walked on quietly, passing a worried looking farmer herding a flock of geese. Finally, as Raistlin pulled the hem of his robes out of the way of the squawking birds, Dalamar continued. "One last question then, if your brother is as overbearing as he sounds, why didn't he insist on coming with you?"

"Thank the Gods he couldn't; he hurt a leg a few days before we were to leave and had to stay behind." Raistlin straightened, the farmer snatched away the nearest goose as though afraid Raistlin would wither it with a glance.

"Much to your delight."

"It is now."

They smirked at each other and Dalamar actually laughed a little, making the farmer grab as many geese as he could carry and hurry away at top speed, as though expecting Dalamar to attack him. This simply made him laugh harder and even infect Raistlin with his amusement.

Whatever last wall stood between them was broken, and the day passed far too quickly. Talking, sharing stories, looking for food for the next few days. For once, Raistlin could have happily kept walking, just for the company. However, he had to admit he was completely exhausted, and his body complained increasingly loudly after last night's rough treatment.

And judging by the look on Dalamar's face, it was likely to be repeated.

Dalamar's hand rested on his shoulder as they searched for firewood, dropped under his collar to run fire-bright nails along his neck when they settled beside the blaze. Shifted to rest close against him as they ate dinner. Hands wandering aimlessly across his chest and arms as Raistlin finally put away his spellbook. Raistlin turned, and Dalamar took the opportunity to pull him into a kiss.

And _Gods_ , but Raistlin was just as eager to do it all over again. He kissed back hungrily, felt his body respond eagerly as Dalamar pulled him close. He was wanted. _He_ was wanted. Raistlin didn't think he could ever get used to that simple fact. For that, he'd be more than happy to join Dalamar in whatever the Dark elf wanted to show him.

All the same, when Raistlin shifted over to straddle Dalamar's lap, he couldn't hold back a brief hiss of pain. As incredible as last night was, it had been- taxing. He wasn't sure he could manage another.

"Still sore?" Dalamar murmured, and kissed the hollow at Raistlin's throat, pulling his robes down and nipping at the tender skin there.

"I could barely walk today," Raistlin ran his hands up Dalamar's arms, under the sleeves of his robes, and scratched at his shoulders. "Come tomorrow and you might need to carry me."

"Or we could stay here." Dalamar's words burned against his skin. "Spend all day here, under the trees-"

That- should not be as tempting as it was. Raistlin shivered as Dalamar licked, sucked a red love-bite just above his collarbone, to match the one he'd placed there last night. "But if that is worrying you," Dalamar continued, purring against his throat, "We can try something different."

The sultry tone probably suggested something specific, but whatever it was bypassed Raistlin completely. "Please Dalamar," he sighed, he hated being so ignorant. "As my experiences amount solely to what we shared last night, I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." He swallowed suddenly as Dalamar's hand slid inside his robes and stroked his stiffening flesh- his fingers were freezing.

Dalamar reached up with his free hand and cupped Raistlin's face, thumb rubbing across his cheekbone. He leant in close, breath brushing across Raistlin's lips. "Would you be opposed to my showing you?"

Raistlin caught his breath, shook his head. Then, feeling that something ought to be done to even the odds, leant in and kissed him, pressing their mouths roughly together. His hands groped for Dalamar's robes, managed to undo enough of the ties to get his own hands inside. Dalamar's body was warm, the muscles of his stomach taut under Raistlin's fingertips. Dalamar groaned something incoherent into Raistlin's mouth as Raistlin's hands reached down and- oh. Raistlin felt his face heat despite himself. Their hands on each other, touching and stroking and feeling Dalamar grow hard and eager under his hand.

Raistlin really hoped he was doing this correctly, but when Dalamar broke the kiss to gasp for air, his face was flushed, eyes dilated and bright, black hair falling across his face in streamers. He smiled, licked kiss-swollen lips and half laughed, so Raistlin much be doing _something_ right.

Maybe they would just keep on- doing this? Using their hands for their pleasure, touching and stroking and caressing until they both reached orgasm. Raistlin liked his hands, they were deft and quick and about the only part of him he would consider beautiful; he would be happy to let Dalamar enjoy them-

Dalamar rested his free hand on Raistlin's shoulder and pushed him down to settle on his back between the tree roots. "You don't have to do anything, let me," He grinned, and bent down to kiss his way down Raistlin's throat.

This seemed to be going just as last night had, Raistlin opened his mouth to say something- then Dalamar clenched his hand just that little bit _tighter_ , moved it a little more quickly, a little rougher and Raistlin forgot what he was going to say. Wasn't sure what his objections had been, anyway. He shifted forwards to return the favor- and Dalamar caught his hand and drew it out of his robes. "I said, let me." He kissed Raistlin's knuckles, and settled back, just out of reach.

Raistlin grumbled something senseless- this felt rather unfair. Then Dalamar used his nails- just the lightest scratch and his head dropped back, the touch dragging a frankly obscene sound from his throat.

He could feel Dalamar smile against his chest as the Dark elf continued to track his way down Raistlin's body, kissing and biting and licking- all the while his hand kept him on the edge of release. The slow, languid scratch sending flurries of lightning through his bones, that slightest tinge of pain only adding to his pleasure.

Dalamar smiled, and brushed kisses against Raistlin's stomach, against the muscles clenching and unclenching as he gritted his teeth in an effort not to embarrass himself by losing control too soon.

"Shh..." Dalamar's amused, husky whisper made Raistlin shiver. "It gets even better."

How? Raistlin would have asked if he'd had the breath. His whole body was trembling, tight and close and wound eager and desperate in anticipation. He was close now, so close. Gods, this was so good-

Then Dalamar released him, sudden and cold and so startling Raistlin yelped, starting up. Dalamar caught hold of his hips and held him in place, laughing softly against his abdomen. He paused for a moment to press a kiss on the tender skin below his navel, then bent down and took Raistlin in his mouth.

Raistlin screamed something incoherent, trailing off to high soundlessness as he ran out of air. His body snapped taut as a mooring rope and he jerked up again, toes curling against the sweet, wet heat that had engulfed him. Oh Gods- oh Gods oh Gods it felt- he couldn't- it was almost too much. Hot and wet and Dalamar's _mouth_ , smiling against him and he couldn't-

Dalamar placed a hand on his stomach and held him down, all the better to torment him properly. First sucking, then blowing on the slick head. Raistlin shuddered, trembling against the hands which were holding him tightly. Dalamar dipped his head down again, his tongue just touching the tip. Raistlin gave a cry that sounded more like a sob, feeling the fire build unbearably.

Raistlin could feel his pulse beat against the Dark elf's tongue as he traced the veins, first down, then up again, bending down to catch the tip between his teeth- biting down enough to make Raistlin cry out again, but not enough for it to be caused by  pain. But it hurt all the same, it hurt being so close but not quite enough, the tightening in his loins almost enough to draw tears.

Then Dalamar swallowed him down and sucked hard, the heat and sudden suction far, far more than he could bear and Raistlin gave himself up. The fire reaching once again to claim him, pouring himself into the Dark elf's far-too talented mouth.

Raistlin collapsed back against the grass, body tingling, still shivering in the aftershocks. He reached up to draw Dalamar down on top of him, welcoming the warm weight, and smiling as one of the Dark elf's hands curled through his hair. He could feel the other one between his legs, holding Dalamar's own erection. Raistlin smiled and reached down, eager to return the favour. But when he touched him, the Dark elf was already spent, his hand slick with his own seed.

For the first time, Dalamar's smile had an edge of embarrassment to it, although he could see the elf appreciated the gesture. He kissed Raistlin's forehead gently, between his eyes.

Dalamar curled up beside him, his head resting on Raistlin's chest, his lips quirking into a smile as Raistlin ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it down over his back. He yawned as Raistlin drew their cloaks over them, before rolling over to face him. Dalamar's eyes opened and he smiled sleepily, then closed his eyes once more and fell asleep.

Raistlin smiled, a now-familiar warmth blooming in his chest as he watched Dalamar sleep. He kissed the Dark elf's forehead in silent thanks for such a wonderful evening, then closed his own eyes and drifted off.


	7. Devotion

 

It was the second time in his life that Raistlin had woken with someone beside him. It felt- strange, warm in odd places, all joints and fine bones and a knee pressed against his thigh where Dalamar had thrown a leg over him during the night. He could feel Dalamar's breathing, slow and steady against his shoulder, the thrum of his heart against his arm where Dalamar lay half on top of it. Raistlin closed his eyes and felt the reality of this settle into him. It hadn't felt entirely real, yesterday. As though it was a sweet dream Raistlin didn't want to wake from.

He was awake now, and Dalamar was there. Had been with him last night. A night that Raistlin wouldn't be forgetting either. Gods- he'd had no idea one's mouth could be used like that. Raistlin licked his lips tentatively, wondering if he could return the favor tonight. The thought was- almost frightening, deeply exciting. He had never even imagined doing anything like that. He'd probably would have thought it revolting a week ago.

Well, everyone was mistaken at some time or another. This was about the nicest way Raistlin had ever been proven wrong.

Carefully, and just because he could, Raistlin reached out and ran his fingers gently through Dalamar's hair, brushing the tip of one ear, and coming to a rest on the tender hollow at the top of his backbone. He was warm, hair slightly damp from the early morning dew, thick and heavy under his hands. Dalamar murmured something senseless, then opened his eyes and smiled. Shifted and Raistlin closed his eyes as Dalamar brushed his hair back away from his face, trailed fingertips feather light down his neck and over his chest.

"Good morning." His voice was low, sleep-fogged.

"Good morning." Raistlin echoed, not sure what else to say. He didn't need to worry, Dalamar leant over and kissed him, bright and darting, the brush of lips against his.

"I trust last night was to your liking?" Dalamar whispered against his ear, making Raistlin shiver.

"You know it was," Raistlin licked his lips, could help but stare hungrily as the Dark elf stretched languidly, working out the knots and kinks from the previous night. Dalamar lifted his arms up and rolled his head, glancing back a little too obviously to make sure Raistlin appreciated the show. Raistlin grinned, ran a hand down his flank, resting on his hip. "Clearly your mouth is just as talented at night as it is during the day."

Dalamar's smiled flickered, the faint crack of something- cold, breaking through the morning's contentment. Raistlin paused- what had he said wrong?

But Dalamar shook himself and was smiling again, settling lazily down on top of him as Raistlin tried to sit up, and pinning him back down. "We had better get up." Raistlin tried uncertainly.

Dalamar didn't move, pressing a lingering kiss to Raistlin's mouth to shut him up. Oh. Well, yes, no reason not to do it in the morning too. The road was rather close by, though-

"You are beautiful." Dalamar murmured against his mouth. "There are so many things I want to show you."

And _Gods_ ¸ but that went straight down Raistlin's spine and between his legs. _Beautiful_. He was beautiful. For a moment, he toyed with the idea of just- going along with it. Dalamar seemed to know- so much about this. Why not learn a little more?

There was an edge to Dalamar's eyes though. Something a little too sharp, turned a little too far inward. Besides, the sun was already up and people might be coming this way. "And if I say no?"

The edge flickered, faded a little. "And why would you say no?" Lascivious, a hand trailing down his chest, over his stomach-

Raistlin caught it. "Because I want to get up." And because something felt a little too- acute. Like the pointed spikes yesterday. Everything had felt so good this morning, Raistlin didn't want to risk going back to that.

"And if I don't?" Dalamar challenged, but the spikes were smoothing away, reminding Raistlin rather absurdly of a hedgehog he had once seen with Meggin. "And if I say-" A kiss to his forehead, "I find you-" The elf's lips touched the skin between his eyes- " to be very attractive and-" A third kiss, on the bridge of his nose- "I want to make love to you again?" The last kiss would have been pressed to his lips again, but Raistlin turned his head away, looking up at the Dark elf. _Beautiful, attractive._ Dalamar was not teasing, he looked perfectly serious, and very eager.

He must have seen something of Raistlin's expression. "Not something you hear often?"

"Never." Raistlin sat up, and Dalamar didn't try and stop him. "Quite the opposite." He ran a hand down his arm, his chest. Too thin, too pale and scrawny. Too plain.

"Gods below." Dalamar shook his head in despair of the world, and kissed him again.

The tension was gone, everything warm and hungry between them, but Raistlin broke the kiss regretfully. Perhaps tomorrow, they could find out what early morning lovemaking could be like, but right now it wasn't early morning, and even sitting up, he could see people moving on the road. "Here," He untangled Dalamar's robes and pushed them towards him, rather pointedly.

Dalamar smiled and took them. "Are you sure? You certainly seem rather- conflicted." He glanced down at Raistlin's lap.

Raistlin flushed and covered himself with his robes. It would pass, hopefully soon. "What I want and what my body wants are different." He said tartly, and starting pulling his robes on.

He got a smile back, and then they both got on with finding their boots. They hadn't been paying attention where they had ended up, and Raistlin's had almost gone in the fire. Beating off the ash- at least it would be warm- Raistlin turned to smirk at Dalamar, "If that had burned, I'd have expected you to carry me. It's still a good two days to Solace."

It was a joke, but it wiped the smiled from Dalamar's face. His expression snapped cold, distant and hard for a moment before he turned away, putting his own boots on with rather too much force. Raistlin got up, bewildered- now what was going on?

He let Dalamar have his silence until they'd kicked out the remains of their fire and returned to the main road. Dalamar didn't look angry, only suddenly lost and distracted, as though reminded of something- unpleasant. But not of something bad in his past, but something coming, something Dalamar had to face, and didn't want to. Raistlin ran back over what he had said, what had he-

Then it clicked. Solace. The road North didn't run through Solace, and the crossroad was not far from here. They should reach it by midafternoon. The thought dropped a rock into Raistlin's stomach, a sudden piercing stab of pain he couldn't have hidden if he had tried. "You are leaving."

Dalamar's shoulder jerked as though Raistlin had stabbed him. "The road North must not be far from here." He said in a low voice.

Raistlin took a breath, tried to settle the shock in his chest, the warm, contented place inside him now stricken and just mindlessly chanting _no no_. He shoved everything aside and just _looked_ at Dalamar. The Dark elf hardly seemed happier about this than Raistlin. His hand caught in the folds of his cloak, pulling at it half-mindlessly, face fixed and struggling to hold back his own pain. He didn't want to leave. The realisation settled the panic a little, Raistlin let the air out, tried to calm down. "And you want to take it?" He couldn't hide the challenge in his words.

Dalamar turned at him, eyes sharp, a mark of anger in his face. "For the love of Nuitari, do you think I want to?" Almost spat.

Despite the sudden ire, Raistlin felt his shoulders relax a little in relief. Good, he'd been right. "Who is forcing you?" He stepped closer, rested his hand on Dalamar's shoulder. The anger banked a little, but was still there in the line between Dalamar's eyes, the teeth just bared.

"No one," He straightened, stopped, "But where else do you suggest I go?"

Raistlin caught his breath but- Gods, they'd come this far. If he didn't say this, if he let Dalamar go so easily, he'd never forgive or respect himself again. "Home." He said, voice firm despite his suddenly numb lips. "With me, to Solace."

Dalamar was very, very still for a moment, then his face twisted into something that would have been savage had it not been so painful. "And they will just let me in," mocking, "Just like that?"

Raistlin stood his ground, met his eyes. "Yes."

"Sound the trumpets and roll out the carpet for the Dark elf?" Dalamar's face drew up in something that was anything but a smile and dear magic it hurt just to look at.

So that was it. Raistlin looked at him steadily, staring him down, and for the first time he felt proud of his little backwater hometown. "They will let you in. I have never seen them turn anyone away." If Solace allowed the stinking, half mad Thorbardin Dewar in- at least until they'd tried to burn down The Trough- they'd allow Dalamar.

Dalamar blinked, and the anger seemed to just- drain out of him, leaving him looking even more lost than before. "And what about you?" His voice was calmer, but still uncertain. "How do you think it would make you look, walking in with me in tow-"

Raistlin smiled. "Then I would have at least one person in that place who could stand me."

Dalamar barked out a laugh, so sudden and unexpected he startled himself, covered his mouth. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, this is ridiculous." Raistlin crossed his arms. "You know me. What with the amount of time we've spent together it would be impossible not to, what do you think?"

He didn't get an answer. Dalamar looked away for a long moment, but couldn't hide his smile. "Thank you." He said finally, and there was no mistaking the warm, quiet joy in his words.

They started walking again, and this time Raistlin relaxed into the comfort between them. A strange feeling of security and- belonging. He felt Dalamar ease into it too, turning a little towards him as they walked. "Why did you want me to come with you?" Dalamar said finally, so softly Raistlin could have missed it if he hadn't been paying attention. Maybe he had been meant to.

He answered it anyway. "You're fascinating." He smiled, "I've been obsessing over you for days and plan to carry on for quite a while longer. You're beautiful, I want you and I- I trust you." Gods, that was difficult. "I want you to stay here, with me."

"And what have I done to inspire such devotion?" There was irony there, but gentled, Raistlin smiled.

"You are the one taking the risk to come home with me." Raistlin took his hand. "You tell me."

Dalamar didn't answer, but just nodded, amused and happy. "This is strange." He said at last.

They could both agree to that. "It's something I could come to enjoy." Very, very easily, when every change made everything better. Easily, and for a long, long time.

"Nuitari." Dalamar breathed, closing his eyes. "Then yes. Yes, a thousand times. I'll stay with you, and we will see where this takes us." He looked absolutely dazzling in happiness, like sunlight through dappled leaves, or the first stars at twilight. Foolish romanticism, Raistlin scolded himself half-heartedly, but couldn't stop smiling.

"How far away is Solace?" Dalamar asked, when they stopped for lunch. "You mentioned we were- two days away, was it?"

Raistlin nodded, "We should reach it tomorrow evening." He handed Dalamar a few early strawberries he'd found by a pond. "Keep an eye out for those, it's a sure sign we're close. Strawberries love vallenwood leaves."

Dalamar nodded, and if there was an hint of apprehension there, he guarded it well.

They passed their first vallenwood a few hours later, as they approached the crossroads. It was a sapling, newly rooted and barely ten feet tall, but it woke a curl of concern inside Raistlin too. What if the guards _didn't_ let Dalamar in? Raistlin knew it was incredibly unlikely, but- what if he was wrong? Would he leave the Dark elf outside and go home, when so much of him was screaming to stay? Or would he turn his back on his home, gather his things and run away with Dalamar- someone he had only known for a week- to an unknown North from which he'd only heard grumblings of war?

Gods. He would.

What madness was this? Raistlin wondered, But he felt quite clear headed, quite calm, and completely sure it would be the best course. Devotion, Dalamar had called it, and he could feel the truth of it in his bones, in his very Magic. It felt right to be here, he belonged here. With Dalamar. He enjoyed his company, both their conversations and- Raistlin blushed, but firmly finished the thought- sex were wonderful, he respected Dalamar, even trusted him. And that was more than he had ever felt for anyone he had ever met. Wasn't that worth his devotion?

They reached the crossroads, and walked past it together. Raistlin glanced up the North fork for a long moment, wondering if they would be taking it in a day or two. Dalamar met his gaze and must have realised what Raistlin was thinking, because he opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, turning away so Raistlin only caught a glimpse of the raw, unbearably tender expression that crossed his face.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. They would be in Solace Vale by nightfall, and home by tomorrow. Unless Raistlin had made an colossal mistake, Dalamar would at most have to check with the guards and be allowed in without a fuss.

The drier weather meant there were more people on the road, and this time, Raistlin recognised a few of them. Some of the farmers who tended the outlying farms, traders who regularly made the journey to Haven for the biweekly market. Most of them did little more than nod and grunt a greeting, glancing occasionally at Dalamar. None of them seemed too alarmed though, probably between Raistlin and Theobald, they were used to mages. After a few such awkward greetings, Dalamar was looking a lot more relaxed, then tension fading from his body.

Well, if that was all it took, Raistlin would happily put up with being chatted to all day. At the next hail, Raistlin lifted his head, ready to respond as non-committally as he could-

Oh, it was farmer Sedge. "Good afternoon Raistlin," He smiled, and Raistlin returned it tensely. "Where's your brother?"

"At home." Raistlin said shortly. "He hurt his leg."

"He didn't come with you?" Sedge looked at Dalamar as though expecting him to magically turn out to have been Caramon all along.

"Clearly." Gods, _go away_. He could see Dalamar biting his lip in amusement.

"Give him our best when you see him, we've missed him at the farm." Thankfully, Sedge turned and started off.

"Yes." Raistlin growled and scowled at Dalamar, who was smiling. "Stop that."

"I see what you mean by having someone to put up with you. Did you have anyone to talk to there?" Dalamar took his hand.

"Solace has many benefits, but elucidating conversation isn't one of them." Raistlin said dryly, then smiled. "Until now, at least."

There were more vallenwoods now, and they were older. Raistlin felt a burst of pleasure at the way Dalamar's eyes widened when he took in his first giant. "Nuitari," He breathed. "I hadn't imagined-"

"And we live in the branches," Raistlin put in smugly, "I hope you enjoy heights."

Dalamar nodded, and there was a distant, weary joy in his expression, as though feeling something he had thought long gone. Raistlin thought of Tanis' stories of the trees in elven lands. "What do you think?"

In response, Dalamar walked up to a vallenwood growing beside the road- a little smaller than the giant they had seen, but still tall and strong enough for at least one small home- and rested both hands on the heavy grain of the trunk. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though listening to something only he could hear, a small smile touching his lips. "Beautiful." He said finally. "Warm and proud." He craned his head up towards the translucent yellow-green leaves, so far above. "And with good reason." He glanced back at Raistlin, as though expecting him to laugh.

Raistlin said nothing, he might not know how to listen to trees, but he had lived in a vallenwood most of his life. Dalamar was perfectly right. "You've missed trees?"

It was meant as a jest but must have landed a little too close, because Dalamar's smile curled. "Nothing grows in the Plains of Dust."

"Even in Tarsis?" Raistlin tested, Tarsis, the last mystery. The only thing Dalamar had refused to talk about. Two years suffocated in silence.

The sneer turned ugly. "Especially in Tarsis."

No, Raistlin could see that. No wonder Dalamar was so thin. "What did you eat there?" He pushed again.

"Anything I could." There was a warning in Dalamar's voice, _no more_.

Raistlin changed the subject. "That won't be a problem here. Everything grows, and I'm sure you can find work." Dalamar stopped, and glared at Raistlin- a sudden, piercing look, as though suddenly wondering if Raistlin was implying- something. Something Raistlin couldn't fathom. He didn't hesitate and continued. "My master forbids us from using magic for _mundane purposes_ ," it was his turn to sneer, and Dalamar relaxed a little, "I can think of dozens of people who would want to hire you to- charm rats out of warehouses, and ward their houses against woodworm. It's hardly glamorous, but-"

"No." Dalamar put in. "That wouldn't be a problem. It sounds fine." All the same, he fell quiet after they returned to the road, glancing away pensively as they walked under the heavy canopy of vallenwood branches for the first time, as though too occupied to see them.

They set up camp close to the road that night, and between the warmer weather and the cover of the trees, they didn't bother with a fire. Unfortunately, it wasn't the only pleasure they had to go without. This close to the road, and to Solace, neither of them felt comfortable enough to do more than lie down together among the great, coiling roots, pressed close together and warm under their cloaks.

And by the magic, that would be enough. While it wasn't lovemaking, sleeping together had a sweet charm of its own, and doing so here- with the murmuring leaves and creaking branches of the great trees around them- Raistlin felt very, very satisfied. He could feel Dalamar's body pressed close to him, the warmth of his skin and the odd sensation of bone and muscle under the velvet softness of skin. Again, a strangeness he would gladly get used to.

Still, sleep was evasive tonight. Looking up at the canopy and the faint stars beyond, Raistlin thought about Dalamar's strange reaction earlier. What had been about to make him so angry? What had he thought Raistlin was going to say, about what he could do in Solace? The same thing he had done in Tarsis, whatever that was? Something unpleasant, by his behaviour, but Raistlin struggled to place what it could be. Dalamar had his pride, but had been living rough long enough to learn to swallow it, had even looked _relieved_ when Raistlin had suggested using his skills in such a mundane fashion to earn money.

"Do you mind not thinking so loud?" Dalamar grumbled from under their cloaks, poked his head out, and blinked sleepily. "You woke me up."

"My apologies," Raistlin stroked his rather matted hair- they hadn't managed to find a stream to wash in.

"None needed." Dalamar rolled over next to him, staring up through the canopy of new leaves at the starry sky. "Now what were you thinking? I'm too sleepy to read it out of your mind."

Raistlin hesitated but- he hadn't had a better chance yet, and who knew when one this good would come again. "Simply thinking I enjoy being with you," he started, and watched Dalamar's eyes half close, contented.

"You enjoy it, feel safer, belong." He murmured in agreement.

"Even half asleep you still succeed in being shrewd."

"I know my emotions, and I know that you share them." Dalamar slipped his arms around Raistlin and closed his eyes, still with that small smile on his face.

"Do you trust me?" Raistlin took a breath, _now_.

"Mm-hum." The Dark elf seemed to be well on his way to falling asleep again.

"Then tell me why you refuse to talk about the years of your exile."

Dalamar's eyes snapped open again, his smile vanished just as fast. "Never one to let an opportunity slip by, are you?"

"Never." Raistlin met his eyes.

"Very well." Any hint of the warm, tired creature of a few seconds ago was gone, Dalamar was tense, coiled in on himself like a steel lash, ready to bite at the first hint of weakness. Raistlin held his ground, letting Dalamar's anger lash at him, like Crystalmir lake in a storm.  "Since you asked _so nicely_ , since you are so curious. I'm sure you'd be _delighted_ to know your lover has been selling himself as a whore for the last two years."

_What_ \- Raistlin's mouth fell open. Dalamar sneered at him, and- he was waiting for Raistlin to push him away, to say something vicious. All Raistlin could manage was a stuttered "Why?"

"Do you think I wanted to?" Dalamar hissed, curled up like an angry cat, and for the first time, he looked truly menacing. Raistlin didn't pull away, just shifted closer. "They refused to let me into the town. I lived in the slums for two years and I _starved_. Do you have any idea what that's like?"

"Yes." Raistlin rested his head on his arms, watching Dalamar steadily. He'd seen his mother starve to death. He knew. Gods, a choice between that and selling himself- he had no idea what he would choose, in that position. What a miserable, hideous situation.

His steady gaze checked Dalamar for a moment and the Dark elf caught his breath. "I had no choice." He said finally, hands starting up to pull at his cloak. "In the end it came between my pride, self respect or my life; well, pride went first, self respect if I had to but my life I'd keep. There," Spat out. "Are you happy now?"

No. Raistlin shook his head. "I'm sorry." The words fell out flat and pathetic, but Dalamar sighed, and when Raistlin reached for him, he came closer, closing his eyes wearily.

"Don't bother." But the anger had leached away and the words just came out tired.

"And that why you were so shaken, when we started this-" Raistlin indicated the two of them, naked under their cloaks. "I didn't understand why at first, but now-"

Dalamar nodded, "You were the first person I'd desired in two years," A worn smile. "I hadn't imagined I'd want anyone ever again."

Gods, if Raistlin- if he had to live like that- Gods, it was too much to even imagine. He'd probably drown in Crystalmir lake, trying to scrub himself clean. Certainly he'd never want anyone's hands on him again. "I am glad you were wrong." He tried.

It must have been the right thing, because Dalamar came close again, pulling Raistlin in his arms. "So am I." The words set a sweet, wonderful heat in Raistlin's heart that had nothing to do with lust. "I did consider telling you," He said finally, "After everything, it seemed right to do so, but after you offered to let me stay with you-"

"It would look like you'd aimed to do this," Raistlin finished, "You wanted to- to seduce me and take advantage."

"Precisely," Dalamar sighed. "Of course, you know me too well. I shouldn't have worried."

"No." Raistlin agreed, then, because it needed to be said out loud, "I will never tell anyone."

"I know. But thank you." Dalamar nodded. His lips touched the side of his face and Raistlin lent in close, the two of them settling in again for the night. His hand rested on Dalamar's waist and for a moment, Raistlin wondered who else had touched the Dark elf like that, a hot burn of jealousy scorched his throat, and he shoved the thought away. It was stupid, and pointless. He knew Dalamar must have had other lovers before him, why should Dalamar having been forced to engage in that sort of- perverse mockery- make him feel jealous?

He kissed Dalamar's forehead in wordless reassurance and hugged him more closely, resting his head on his shoulder before drifting off to his own dreams.


	8. Love

_-You’ll cheat us for the last time-_

_A hand clenched in his hair, dragging him_

_-Get the knife, brothers-_

_The pale winter light glinting off the blade_

_-next time, you’ll give us what we pay for-_

_The magic bit in his throat, burned his hands, wait, wait, not yet_

_-and at half price, after what we’ll do to you-_

Dalamar started awake; the words of the spell already half spoken, waiting and hungry in his mouth. But the knife was gone. The Red Brothers were gone. He touched fingers to his throat, but the mark must have faded months ago. It was spring now, and he was far from Tarsis.

The morning light was dappled green, the leaves waving high above. Dalamar closed his eyes and felt a part of himself sink into the world around him. Not completely, not as it had been but enough. The great bulk of the trees weighing down the world, where before it had felt it could just- blow away from around him, like the Plains of Dust. They were quiet, like all trees here, but there was a deep, creaking murmur within them, almost like a hum, too deep for hearing.

Raistlin shifted against him, said something half-asleep. He was warm, and Dalamar had wrapped himself around him as they slept. Warm. Nuitari, but he had been so cold. He knew, logically, that in two years there must have been a spring in Tarsis, and two summers, but it was a struggle to recognise the seasons in that place, where the wind always blew cold from the south, and there were no trees to change their leaves. Raistlin sighed, and ran his fingers absently through Dalamar’s hair; the heat of him soaked through Dalamar’s body and relaxed some old, weary emotion that had been frozen inside him, aching and raw.

Raistlin lifted his head, blinked his eyes open, then closed them again as Dalamar kissed him. It felt- good, something he’d thought he had left abandoned behind him in Silvanesti. The language of trees, the warmth of the sun, loveplay with someone he had the freedom to want. The young mage’s mouth was warm and supple under him, opening invitingly and kissing back with hungry abandon. Dalamar's hands drifted under their cloaks and found the snugly inviting touch of bare skin.

They broke apart for a moment, pulling in air, Raistlin was smiling uncontrollably and Dalamar couldn’t stop either. _Yes_ , he felt his body flush with desire- warm, simple desire. For the beautiful young mage in his hands, bright and smiling wickedly and wanting him back.

“Someone might see us-“ Raistlin whispered.

“So?” Dalamar kissed the words away, “Let them look.” Nuitari knew enough people had seen him in Tarsis miserable and unwilling, it felt warm and sweet to be seen with someone he wanted, someone beautiful and eager who wanted nothing but this shared pleasure.

For a moment, it seemed as though Raistlin would give in, leaning in hungrily for more- then broke the kiss. “Later,” He said firmly. “We have an inn- good beds-“ Beds. For the last two years, beds had been something that had happened to other people. Dalamar wondered if he could have enough for a night. Raistlin must have seen his expression. “Otik’s been having problems with rats in the alehouse, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

It was so easy, the way he said it. As though he saw the tangled knot of emotions inside Dalamar and knew just what to say, where to touch, to soothe it. And he could see the emotion in Raistlin’s own face, how much he cared. Cared. For Dalamar.

There was a small brook not far away, Raistlin went straight in, sliding his feet through the water and washing himself quickly and efficiently. Dalamar dipped his fingers in, but the water was chill, not cold. No longer the icy run-off from last winter’s snow. He took a breath and dunked his head under the fast-flowing water. It was biting, stole his breath, he ran his fingers through his ragged hair, working out the knots and dirt from the last few days.

Raistlin did the same, his hair hung limp and heavy around his shoulders, a weight of black-auburn. Dalamar reached over and plucked a length of weed from behind his ear. Raistlin smiled and leaned into the touch. Welcoming.

Always welcoming, seeing Dalamar’s status- mage, black robe, Dark elf- as a point of intrigue rather than fear. Drawing him in open armed.

“We had better get moving if we want to make Solace before dark.” Raistlin dried himself as best he could on the lining of his cloak, “We still have a way to walk before we reach the outskirts.”

Dalamar pulled his hair out of the way, it would dry quickly enough. “And what will you tell them when we get there?” Tried to ignore the bite of fear in his throat, if Raistlin was wrong, and he was turned away-

Raistlin had wanted to come with him, but would he actually do that? With his home around him, the people he knew, would he actually stay with Dalamar and go- where? To an unmarked North and rumors of an army they might join, or who might end up butchering them. How could Dalamar expect Raistlin to turn his back on everything he knew and leave?

The answer was in Raistlin's eyes, calm and steady. He would come. He would leave everything he knew behind. For Dalamar. It stole his breath away. “I will tell them I met you on the road, and you are coming to stay in Solace.” Raistlin answered, firmly. “They may ask some questions.”

Yes, Dalamar could imagine that. Why were you exiled? Why do you wear black robes? What do you want with us?

Still, it was more than he had before. Most people didn’t wait to ask questions, just threw stones or- at the Tarsis gates- fired arrows.

“Do you really care what people think?” Raistlin said softly, took his arm.

“When they hurt me? Yes.” Dalamar drew in his breath. “I don’t want them to hurt you.” It’s a little hard to say, to admit that much, and yet to leave the emotion within him unnamed.

"As I said yesterday, they already dislike me," Raistlin looked away, shrugged and- it was too late, wasn’t it? They’d already hurt him. Of course they had, Dalamar thought bitterly, Raistlin was like him, whatever the colour of his robes. Fierce and bright and biting. They'd both had their share of savagery. "I doubt you coming with me will change things one jot."

Maybe it could. With both of them, they could watch each other’s backs.

“And when they find we are sleeping together?” Dalamar touched Raistlin’s hand. He didn’t care, but he- wanted to hear it.

Raistlin gazed hard into Dalamar's face. "Does it look to you as though I care?"

Dalamar smiled slightly. "No, not at all."

Raistlin smiled back, "You're very good at reading people, after all." 

The day was a warm one, but the shade of the trees dappled the heat between the leaves, offered cool shade under the spreading branches. They walked through a thick carpet of fallen leaves, the brown leaves curling like hands underfoot. At first, he thought it was that slowing their progress, but when Dalamar looked back for the third time to see Raistlin lagging behind- it was something else.

Dalamar stopped, and Raistlin sighed, looking away, then walked over. “Well, you clearly care what some people think.”

Raistlin didn’t meet his eyes, ashamed and trying to hide it. He’d seen him look like that before. “Your brother or sister?”

Raistlin shook his head, shrugged. Dalamar stroked his shoulder and for once- wasn’t sure what to say. He had never had siblings, and his parents had died when he was very young. Now he wondered if he had been fortunate. “Both?”

Raistlin looked away, “My sister.” Dalamar said nothing, letting him talk. The words came slowly, with difficulty “She has a tendency to go after people she finds- beautiful.”

Dalamar smiled, “And am I beautiful?”

Raistlin gave him a sly, hungry look that took Dalamar’s breath away, “You know you are.”

“As are you.” Dalamar kissed his forehead, putting this doubt to death right now. Once, perhaps, it would have sounded tempting. If Raistlin’s sister was as enticing as he was, he would quite happily have spent time with both of them. But now- even if Raistlin would have accepted such an arrangement- it just felt exhausting. He’d never thought he would be satisfied with just the one lover, but he was starting to see the appeal.

Raistlin nodded, maybe not quite appeased yet, but willing to fall into step beside Dalamar.

 

* * *

 

The trees only got taller as they progressed, the forest around them open and clear beneath the canopy like a great cathedral of green. Despite what Raistlin had said, it was still a shock to see the first house, tucked up snugly in the highest branches, with nothing but ropeways and ladders leading the way up. He could feel Raistlin smiling beside him, pleased and amused by his amazement. But by Nuitari, what happened if you fell down? He'd half expect to see graves littering the ground under every tree, but there were very few. Perhaps after a generation or two, the people of Solace had become very good at keeping their balance.

The houses were few to begin with, standing alone in their trees, with a small cultivated garden at its foot. But then they became more clustered, two or three dwellings in each tree, and each tree linked together by rope bridges.

"And you live up there too?" Dalamar glanced at Raistlin.

He received a teasing smile in return. "Higher than that." And dear Nuitari, Dalamar had thought himself confident with heights, but that thought sent a thrill through him, not quite fear, but certainly apprehension. "Everyone lives in the trees, apart from the blacksmith. But he's a dwarf, so that's only to be expected."

More walkways, more houses, a whole town held in the treetops. Dalamar could have stopped and stared all day- but now people were starting to stare back. No one had shouted yet, or thrown anything, but Dalamar felt his shoulders draw up to his neck, his hands coming to pull at his cloak. Despite everything Raistlin had said, he was just waiting for the first stone, the first curse. _Dark elf. Black robe._ Probably a murderer or demon-summoner-

Raistlin had been watching him, and finally, when they passed a wagon of farmers and small children, he had enough. He pulled Dalamar around firmly, reached up and kissed him, bright and burning and possessive. The children giggled, there were a few confused gasps. Dalamar blinked. Raistlin was red around the cheeks, but smiling stubbornly. _This_ was how it was going to go, and nothing Dalamar or anyone else did was going to change that.

Gods, it- it almost _hurt_. A bright deep pain in his heart and he kissed back. The wagon rolled on and no one said anything. Just let them go. They could have done- almost anything and Raistlin still had-

Well, they hadn't, so Raistlin seemed to have been right so far. Dalamar reached out and let Raistlin take his hand, and pull him further into Solace.

Night was falling by the time they reached the town proper. And no one had tried to stop them. Dalamar couldn't quite believe it. They had been watched by a handful of guardsmen, but none of them had even bothered to come close enough to ask what Dalamar was doing there. Perhaps they would, when it became clear he would not be leaving. Perhaps having a Dark elf visiting was one thing, but he would be a different reception when they realised he meant to stay-

Somehow, even that fear didn't quite materialise. He had come this far, was it so impossible they would simply leave him alone? Once it became clear he wasn't sacrificing their children or cursing the milk sour. Dalamar felt the cold, aching knot inside him relax a little, releasing a wave of weariness. Gods, he was so tired, it seemed so long since he'd been able to rest, it felt impossible to even imagine it, since Silvanesti.

Raistlin tugged his hand, leading him off the road they had been following for over a week now, and over to one of the trees. A giant among giants, this one. Tall and broad as any tower in Silvanost, and in the twilight Dalamar could see the windows of some huge house glimmering invitingly above. People were walking confidently across the walkways around them, and Raistlin barely seemed to blink at stepping off solid ground and onto the wooden slats of the stairway leading up. Dalamar gritted his teeth, took a breath, and followed.

He tried not to look down, Raistlin stopped at the top to catch his breath and Dalamar looked pointedly around at the other houses, _not_ at the ground now a good forty feet down. The lights made the trees look as though they were full of fireflies, the great branches barely moved in the late evening breeze, letting the rustle of the leaves fill the quiet between the distant sound of voices, the clatter of homes settling for dinner. The air smelled of new growth and smoke.

"Do you like it?" Raistlin leaned on the banister easily, as though he wasn't a half-step down from a fearsome drop. Dalamar forced himself to step up beside him, although he didn't dare rest his weight on the weatherworn wood.

"It's beautiful." Dalamar answered. Quiet, peaceful, and perhaps one day it would seem dull, but right now his soul felt sore and aching for peace and stillness. He touched Raistlin's hair, autumn bright. "It's a good place."

"Rather small," Raistlin put in, "You can see most of it from here." He took a hand of the railing and pointed. "That way is to Crystalmir lake, and where the forge is. There is a store in that tree- and my home. Besides that, there's the Inn, and the school is back along the road." Raistlin gave a small shrug, as though expecting Dalamar to be disappointed.

Dalamar kissed him instead. "I don't have much money, but the Inn sounds very good."

Raistlin snorted, "Otik extends so much credit, I'm surprised he can even run his inn. He'll stand us dinner, and maybe even a room, if you promise to take care of his rats."

Dalamar licked his lips, tasting Raistlin on them. A _bed_. "Won't you be expected back home?" He teased, running a hand lingeringly down Raistlin's back, feeling him shiver. All of this, freely given and more. He wanted- he could barely grasp what he wanted any more. More of this. This, forever.

He got a sharp, sweet grin back. "No one knows I'm home yet. It can wait until morning."

The inn was bright and warm, already crowded, a few people broke off their conversations and stared when they came in, but no one said anything. The most they got was a few rolling their eyes when they recognised Raistlin. Apparently the young mage could have walked in with a demon in tow and no one would have been surprised. A serving maid hurried over to them, and Dalamar found himself crammed into a small cubby beside a gleaming, multi-coloured window, a bill of fare pushed into his hands and a glass of wine at his elbow. Raistlin had been pushed in on the bench opposite, and was trying not to laugh.

His expression must have been comical, Dalamar looked after the barmaid, who was now being accosted by a dozen people wanting to be served. He glanced back at Raistlin.

"The Lord of Palanthas, the king of Thorbardin, and Paladine himself could walk into the inn now and get exactly the same treatment." Raistlin smiled. "It's a busy night, I don't think she even looked at you." He lifted his own wineglass. "No one cares."

And by Nuitari, he was right. No one spared him more than the odd glance. Dalamar looked down at his wine, it was deep red, smelled of autumn leaves. Without a clue as to how he was supposed to pay for it, Dalamar lifted his own glass in a wordless toast.

Well, perhaps not wordless. "To strange foundations." He said dryly, and Raistlin laughed. Strange indeed, but this tree had its roots firmly in Dalamar's heart now, he wasn't sure how he could uproot it, even if he wanted to. They tapped their glasses, drank.

He had tasted wine in Silvanesti that would have made this seem like gutter runoff, but that was two years and so far away it might have happened to someone else, and the only wine had could have afforded in Tarsis was a vile sour yellow whose provenance he tried not to think about. This was rich and warming and if it was a little sweet, Dalamar no longer cared.

"Good evening Raistlin!" The bright voice made Dalamar start. A large fat man in a spotless apron was smiling at them.

Raistlin sighed and put the glass down, "We'll have two meat dinners, Otik. We have had a long road." The _we_ didn't go unnoticed, Dalamar saw the innkeeper's eyes widen in hungry curiosity. They darted to Dalamar, not so long as to be caught staring, but more than enough to show his interest.

"A friend of yours then?" He made no attempt to leave, pretending to write something down.

"Yes. He will be staying in Solace for a while."

"Indeed?" There was a slight shuttering of the innkeeper's warm face, uncertainty as his eyes rested on Dalamar's robes.

"He heard of the problem you were having with rats," Raistlin continued, glancing at Dalamar to make sure he was observing. "And insisted on coming to help."

Dalamar forced his face into his most serious mask. "It sounded like a dire situation." he said gravely, and was gratified to see Raistlin take an overly quick gulp of wine to hide his smile. "I came as quickly as I could."

"Truly?" The wariness was gone, happy surprise shining like the sun. After a week with Raistlin, Dalamar had forgotten how easy other people were to read. "It's been something dreadful, this winter, Deza could scarcely dare to go in to get the ale."

"A terrible situation." Dalamar agreed, "How you _did_ you manage for so long without aid?" He glanced at Raistlin to make sure he wasn't laying it on too thick, and Raistlin was staring out of the window, biting his lip rather hard.

"Well, I would have asked," The innkeeper- Otik- glanced at Raistlin, "No offence, but we all know what Master Theobald thinks about-"

"Of course," Raistlin said dryly, "He'd made _that_ quite clear."

"No problem with charming rats out of _his_ larder, I'll be bound," Otik grumbled, "Well, if you'll see the blighters out, you can have room and board until you get back on your feet- not to mention if you've got a spell to see to that woodworm we're getting in the roof- leaked something awful this winter-"

"Consider it done." And although they both stifled laughter as the ridiculous innkeeper bustled away, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off Dalamar's shoulders. After two years of sleeping rough and with little certainty as to his next meal, the assurance was- welcome.

It was just words. Dalamar told himself firmly, stamping down on the flicker of hope. Words were easy. Two steel in the street corner turned into two copper in the back alley.

But the cynicism was a little harder to keep up when the serving girl came back with two plates of more food than Dalamar had seen in months, more than he could finish in one sitting. Raistlin looked daunted. "I usually have my brother to help me." He admitted.

Meat and bread, a stew of winter vegetables and a bowl of fragrant potatoes. Dalamar felt his mouth water. His stomach growled, reminding him they hadn't stopped for lunch. They didn't speak for a long moment, eating hungrily. Raistlin was picky with his food, uncomfortable perhaps with food he hadn't chosen himself, and despite Dalamar's best efforts, they only managed to clear about one plate between them. Dalamar looked at the leftovers, and carefully picked out a cloth from out of one of his pouches, slipping the bread and a few of the potatoes off the table and wrapping them up securely. Raistlin, Nuitari bless him, pretended not to notice and he felt a stab of pathetic gratitude at being allow to keep this shred of his pride.

There, Dalamar told himself bitterly. Food. Food for tomorrow. It was embarrassing, stealing like a kender, but it relaxed the endless, coiling fear in his belly. The fear that had been with him for two miserable years, whispered that he would starve again, there wasn't enough food, he'd grow weak- be unable to find customers- die in the snow-

 _Shut up_. He had food. Lots of food. It wasn't even cold. Shut up. Raistlin reached over to the table and took his hand and Dalamar gave him a weary smile, the touch grounding him. It spoke of warmth, of security, of trust Dalamar didn't know if he could quite believe in yet and- something more. Raistlin started to smile back-

Then stopped. Something swift and angry passed over his face and Dalamar wondered which one he'd seen; his brother or his sister? After everything he'd heard about them from Raistlin- and even more from what he'd not heard- Dalamar was curious to meet them. He turned as someone approached their table.

Oh, sister then. Dalamar could see something of the similarity between them, although her hair was black and curly to Raistlin's red waves. There was something shared in the mouth, the well formed features of their faces. And, rather importantly, they were both fiercely beautiful.

Dalamar met the woman's surprised, intrigued gaze, amused despite himself. He had certain- preferences for men and women. Raistlin was exactly to his taste when it came to stunning young men- slender and wicked, clever and fine-featured- but he had to admit this woman was every bit as striking in her own right.

As far as her appearance went, at any rate. Because Dalamar met her eyes and knew in a moment Raistlin had nothing to worry about. Oh, there was interest there, her own curiosity, but there it ended. There was something mercenary in her gaze that might once have been engaging, but right now just made Dalamar feel tired, and glad of Raistlin's hand in his. She wanted to know about him, but not for his own sake, as with Raistlin, but for her gain. She would strip him of everything useful about him, and leave him behind- with a knife in his back, most likely.

And yes, that could be exciting, enticing, but Dalamar had lived two years with the fear of a knife in his back and it had rather lost its luster. He looked away and met Raistlin's eyes. He was worried, and trying everything he could not to show it. He was good, but Dalamar knew him now. "And who is that?" As though they had been discussing the room and only happened to come upon her by chance.

Raistlin knew him by now too. The tension drained out of him and he smiled back. "My sister." he said calmly, "Kitiara, we are having dinner, so if you please-" he waved a hand towards the door.

Kitiara ignored him, which made Dalamar's hackles rise, and Kitiara dropped rather sharply in his estimation. Nuitari, one day she was going to wake up and have a nasty surprise where her brother was concerned. "I heard some rumors about someone new coming to Solace," her voice was warm, brash, falsely frank and open to encourage him to do the same. "An elf, and a mage to boot." She finally glanced at Raistlin, "I see you met my little brother."

It was so ridiculous Dalamar couldn't hold back his smile and didn't try. "I met Raistlin," He agreed, "He has been-" The hand under his went still, and Dalamar changed tack, "Very good to invite me here." He finished smoothly. "I hope to stay here for some time." He glanced at Raistlin, who nodded just a touch. So, he _wanted_ her to underestimate him? Probably wise. Living with someone like that must be like living with a viper, he could imagine it was safer to just stay beneath her notice.

"We can always use more pretty faces here," Her laugh was bright was new cast nails, and just as sharp. "Whereabouts did you come from, anyway? Not many elves in the area, and not in _those_ robes."

The question was well veiled, seemed oh so casual, but Dalamar heard the hardness beneath, the probing point of a knife. If he gave her anything, she wouldn't stop until she'd opened him for everything she wanted. And it would not be curiosity or fascination in _him_ that drew her.

Suddenly, Dalamar felt too tired to bother continuing, as though all the misery and weariness of the last two years had rubbed him raw, too tender to spent time with someone like this. It had been a long day, and all he wanted was to wrap himself in Raistlin and a _bed_ and call it a night. "If you know my robes, you know no elf wearing them would answer that question." He snapped. He rubbed a thumb over Raistlin's hand pointedly. "Now, _we_ were enjoying a pleasant evening."

"Yes," Raistlin said dryly, but he was smiling, and there was a fierce wounded joy in his eyes that set the unnamed emotion in Dalamar into a stab of pain. Gods, had anyone else ever said they'd wanted him to the exclusion of anyone else? "Was there something you wanted, sister?"

She blinked for a moment, but controlled herself quickly, the smile turned to a sneer. "Just wanted to meet a new face, but if you're too _busy_ -" She turned, brushing past Raistlin, murmuring; "Honestly Raistlin, I'd have thought you'd at least manage to get a _girl_ -" before sweeping out.

For a moment, they managed to sit quietly, then it all got too much and they both started laughing. "Thank you for that," Raistlin said finally and there was no hiding the relief in his eyes. "She can be-"

"A fool," Dalamar snickered. "She truly believes you useless?"

"I hardly enjoy the pretense," Raistlin shook his head, "It seemed the safest option, however."

"I don't blame you." He glanced back to where Kitiara had disappeared out of the door. "I pity her lover."

"I don't." Raistlin stretched, "He is clever enough to know better. Now," Raistlin's thumb rubbed light circles on Dalamar's palm, sending low, sweet prickles of desire running through him. "Would you like to see about that room?"

Dalamar finished the last of his wine, and stood. "Gladly."

Raistlin stayed pressed close against him as Dalamar got the key to the room, body warm and supple and just begging for hands to touch, a mouth to kiss. Something Dalamar was more than eager to do once they'd reached the warm little garret under the eaves of the inn. Raistlin laughing against his mouth, his clever hands pulling at Dalamar's own robes, hungry and wanting.

And after. After they were finished, clad only in sweat and each other, lying in the faint light coming from the little pot-hole window. Hearts thrumming and breath only now slowing, pleasure bright and alive between them. Raistlin turned his head from where he was lying on Dalamar's chest, and smiled at him. And that smile, sharp and brilliant, and those eyes, bright as foxfire. Dalamar looked at him, and knew. Closed his eyes and smiled, fingers sinking into Raistlin's hair, then running down his back, the smooth expanse of skin, the sharp edges of bones too close to the skin. Mine. There was no need to say anything.

But Raistlin said it anyway, closed his eyes and let it slip, easy and simply from sleepy lips. "I love you."

Dalamar couldn't speak, only nodded after a long moment. "And I you." He said at last, the words drifting up above them like smoke, hanging there like a spell inscribed to the air.

The perfect welcome to this strange new home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me three tries and fifteen years to finally get this chapter right. I think this time, I got it. Do tell me what you think and please leave a review!


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